Forbidden Gods
by Writing Muse
Summary: The war is over.Agamemnon,Achilles and Menalaus still live to see Paris in chains.Under the eye of Achilles, Paris' beauty and Achilles' wild spirit invoke an erotic love between the two.Not knowing what Agamemnon will use Paris as in his dirty plans.AXP!
1. First Defeat

**Forbidden Gods**

**I. First Defeat**

It was going to be a hot day. Hot and dry, which Achilles loved because it reminded him of home. However all the other men longed for their villages of green grass and crowed cities, or wherever they originated from before the decade war.

All the royal family of Troy was destroyed except the snake that began to seal their fates, still lived only to entertain Mecuelus' cockiness that he won the war. It wasn't about who got the women anymore but who had something and who had nothing to Mecuelus. But to Paris, the youngest prince of Troy, and the reason why his family is dead, city gone, riches taken away, and his love killed herself; to him it was about who got the girl. It was 10 long years ago that he left a peace treaty with the most beautiful women he saw. That woman was the wife of Mecuelus and when her presence was lost in his bed, he sent a thousand ships to seize her, with the help of his brother Agamemnon, King of Kings. The war hero was Achilles, the greatest warrior. When their army took hold of Troy and killed Paris' brother and father, they grabbed him and Helen, who was undressed in his bed. Helen knew she would never see Paris again so she took her own life, leaving both her husband and her lover in grief. Paris was known for getting out of sticky situations by the sight of his fair face. And the rumor was true when Agamemnon saw him for the first time and decided to keep him prisoner. He stationed the imprisoned prince in 4 different camp sites and both times he almost completed escaping.

"Bring him in!!" Three men jostled in but the fourth was the one that spoke. "What is the meaning of barging in a hero's quarters?" Achilles whipped out his blade toward the captain's throat. His Adams apple bobbed with anxiety of having a blade to it. So he choosed his words carefully, "My lord requests for you to watch the prince. He's escaped 4 times! And killed 6 of my men." "There will be 7 more if you don't get him out of here!" Achilles roared. The captain backed away and before following two men out of the tent said this. "Go talk to the king about it then" Without seeing what they brought in his tent, he rushed out sarcastically saying "Which king? There are seven kings in this field."

Achilles ran to the king's tent, ignoring all of the soldiers in awe of his presence, bowing to him like a god. Looking at him, the way he talked, the way he carried himself, the way he walked, all of it written in greatness. His body was built, his strong cheekbones and blue eyes and blonde hair hung to his shoulders and some of it roped in thick messy braids.

"What is the meaning of this Agamemnon?" Agamemnon sat sulkily at his cushioned throne picking at grapes. "I have made my decision and it will be so." His voice was on the brink of shouting. His blood red robes hung over his great body, and long black mane with a clean beard was specked with gray. His dark eyes never glanced at the hero. Achilles began his way down the red carpet to his lord's throne. "I fought for 10 years to not baby sit some royal brat!" He rested his hands on the chair's own staring the king in the face, forcing to look into his. The king did and snapped at him like some child needing to get back to their place. "Then think of this as another challenge to fight!" That was all the so called wisdom the king gave to Achilles and he stormed out of the tent more bothered.

Now everything was uncomfortable. The air he breathed, the sun on his back, the armor that weighed down his skin. He wanted to break out of his shell that he created on his own. Most said to this was the wanting of a woman, but Achilles sworn off any women because he thought them the source of mortality. Or to him, weakness.

Achilles wasn't in a rush to go back to his tent, so he went towards the cliffs that hung over the crashing waves, overseeing the ocean he once crossed. The water looked different then the one that he sailed on 10 years ago. To him, he believed it aged with him. The waves were slower and its threatening appearance didn't tingle his fear of drowning any more. He wanted to go home, but then he thought _what home?_ Last winter, his mother died and all he would be returning to is the cold stone castle in the middle of an island. Achilles wanted to be alone, but not completely, he needed someone to share it with. As dusk approached he made his way back to his tent.

He dragged his feet through the party of warriors that once again were celebrating their conquering of Troy. "Hail Achilles!" was all he heard from the drunken men. One of them caught his eye. It was just another endless face of a solider; probably use to be a trader. But it was his eyes that caught his attention. The solider was looking at a woman who sat on his legs, opening hers to his torso with love and satisfaction in her smoky eyes. The same reflected back into the man's and after he told her something, they kissed. Achilles' cold doubtful thoughts were gone after he saw love's true face. He felt jealous of the humble solider but grateful that there was some good in this world. When he was just about to enter the tent a young man spoke to him from a distance, sitting around a camp fire. "My lord, I heard some rummaged in your tent. Don't be the 5 man that let the prince get away." The rest of his peers burst into laughter. Drunk they were, because no man would have ever say anything like that to a superior killer. When he stepped into his tent a jolting movement caught his eye.

A young man froze at the sight of him, holding a dagger at his side, and broken ropes dangled at his wrists. He was breathing heavily from the heat and sweat sprinkled all over his bronze body. Achilles stood where he was; not wanting to move an inch to startle the prince away. His eyes began to scan his prisoner's body. The young man had dark hair that scrunched on his forehead to see through. His eyes were dark and pierced through Achilles skin. His lips were thin but the other was fuller then the upper one, which formed a perfect bowlike figure and his fine features were sharp and angled. He wore only a long sarong that hung loosely on his hips, which exposed his wiry chest. It wasn't lanky but athletic and toned nicely. He wore a golden medallion; probably the only object he owned now that wasn't worthless; and thick bracelets, one on each wrist that were probably three inches thick. You could tell he was recovering from a recent beating because blood, not yet dry, still dripped from the corner of his mouth ever so slightly.

Achilles came back from his dazed moment. "There is no point in running from one danger if you're heading toward another." The prince, Paris, knew what he was talking about and began to inch his way towards the back entrance that faced the desert. As he got close enough, he spun around to dash for freedom, but Achilles was on top of his every move and pounced on him before he got out of the tent. "No!" the prince yelled as he tried to squirm Achilles' weight off of him, which he did. But Achilles' hand slightly tapped Paris' foot, which toppled him to the ground once again for the thousandth time. Achilles pinned each of the prince's limb with his and harshly whispered. "Look, I don't like looking at your face either every day, but we must accept our place." And guess where Paris' place was, in the corner, next to boulder size pottery where he was tied to. Achilles began sharpening his sword which was already stained with blood before the war. He was waiting for the prince to ask him thousands of questions on how he defeated his country, but surprisingly he did not. Achilles only sifted his eyes up to see the prince still every 3 seconds. Until a minuet of this passed his pride broke the silence. "Aren't you going to ask me the question yet?" Paris turned his way towards him, confused. _What was he talking about?_ He thought to himself, but his face reflected the idea more. "Every time I see you Trojans, you ask the same question in different ways, but the same none the less." Paris hated when someone talks badly of his people and he has been getting it often now. "And what question is that?!" he snarled.

Now that he has won Paris' attention, he continued his sharpening with a face of vanity on it. "How we defeated your kingdom? Yours that has never been taken by an enemy in more then 4 generations" Paris ticked his tongue in a sound of disgust, and began picking a spot in the tent and focused on that.

Achilles chuckled and continued. "Its okay to be angry, that you are now the worm of failure at this camp with nothing great at all to at least say you _had_." After his chuckling ceased a voice of confidence spoke from the other side of the tent. "Yes I have." Achilles was shocked by his comeback. He sprang up from his position to the prince's throat that now stood below him. "You had nothing, nothing, better then me." Prince slowly stood up, eye leveled with the warrior and fixed into his blue eyes. "I had love... Much more then I could say about you." He looked up and down at Achilles while he said this last line. Making sure every syllable was slurred. Achilles didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say...._He's right. _The defeated warrior stormed out, with embarrassment on his cheeks. And Paris smirked as he exited.


	2. A New Alliance

**Forbidden Gods**

**II. A New Alliance**

That night Achilles didn't sleep. He thought of many excuses he could think of other then to sleep in that tent. _I'm just keeping watch. You don't know that there might be some angry assassins out there._ He convinced himself that, and carried on, walking through the rows upon rows of identical tents.

Ever thing was quiet. Not the rummage of men in their bed, or the waves from the cliffs, or even the stirring of an animal could be heard that night. This was the hour that only the dead walk. And that's what Achilles thought of himself, dead. He had nothing, and Paris was right, the prince had something that will forever give his life meaning; even if Helen isn't alive today. The only thing Achilles loved was killing. But there was also something else, his mother. He never knew his father and his mother claimed that he never had one. That he was a gift from the gods and not by any man, which is why Achilles' strength or greatness could never be matched to any mortal. And that thought alone, kept him going.

An abandoned table lay isolated before him. (Probably left from a party of drunken friends, rejoicing that they are alive today) The warrior sat down and began staring into the wood. And he sat there without moving, looking for answers that the wood might tell him all night. But the table never answered and dawn began to approach.

Soon one lone solider crawled out from his quarters, stretching, and cursing for the pain in his lower back in the early morning. It seemed like every minuet or two; another body would come from their den and wake up. For the first 3 hours of day, all were awaken and shaking off the wine they drank last night. Soon Achilles thought it was too crowded, and his time for himself crept away. And so did he.

He began retracing his steps from last night but on his way an argument from the king's tent caught his focus. Angry voices were heard, but not audible to know what they were saying. Achilles just causally walked in the tent. The guards that stood at its entrance watched him walk in and their protests were drowned by their fear of him.

The argument was between brother and brother. "I want him dead! There is nothing else for his existence. Why must you keep him breathing" Menelaus roared. Agamemnon seemed tired by his brother's arrogance. "Aren't you tired of death yet? He is no longer harm to you, or your dignity." The younger brother had wanted to say much more, but all of it would kill him for sure, brother or not. He charged out of the camp and brushed past Achilles without word or glances, and Agamemnon sat on his throne. "Bickering already and its not even noon." Agamemnon ignored Achilles' teasing.

"When are we prepared to leave for home?" Achilles questioned, dropping the matter that is none of his business. Agamemnon stoked his beard, thinking of the time when the wind will be in their favor, and the time it will take to prepare. "In about 4 days from now. I have ordered that the men to begin packing all that we brought." Achilles felt a little sorry for the king to have to deal with such an arrogant brother, and just left for him to let him be.

There was no where else left but his tent and he made his way there no matter how much he didn't want to. As he entered, Paris was looking at the point where he dashed for yesterday and seemed to not have moved for many hours. He didn't even pay attention when Achilles came in.

Achilles looked at the ropes to see if they held and then at Paris. He noticed that the prince as been crying and still is. His face was tear stained and tears continued to silently drip from his eyes. Achilles' heart began to tremble with sadness to see something so young to be so sad, but the warrior's face still had an angry look in his eyes. He began his way towards the prince and grabbed a container of water from a trunk and sat down next to him. Paris was shocked by his movements and looked at him with question.

The warrior thrust the container at him and knew it indicated his believes. 'If your going to leak out water, drink some more to cease it' I know it doesn't make sense, but Achilles always drunk some form of liquid when he was sad and it seemed to help him wind down. Paris only drank one sip and held the container in his hands and stared at it. "Have you ever lost something you loved?" Achilles took his eyes away from his forward view and turned towards Paris. The prince looked at him with his chocolate eyes blood shot from crying. Achilles shifted his seating nervously.

He cleared his voice before he began to speak. "No." Achilles didn't look at him, which meant he was lying. Paris continued searching the truth in his eyes. After a long moment passed Achilles knew the prince believed he was lying. He sighed, he wasn't good at lying. "My mother." Achilles looked down ashamed. He was never supposed to reveal his weaknesses, but he believed the prince wasn't going to live long anyway to know for long.

The prince's eyes fell from Achilles. "I never knew my mother...But I guess it feels the same when you lose a brother and father." Achilles turned his eyes from the floor to Paris' and Paris looked back. The prince gave the weakest smile and then began staring off in his lap. Achilles continued to look at him. For the first in a long, the shell that he constructed around himself; that had so long suffocated him; broke when he saw the smile from that the prince gave to him. It felt like a huge load is finally off his shoulders and that he could now take a full breath of relive and life. He never wanted that feeling to disappear and it was this weeping prince that gave him his freedom. It looks like Achilles made a new friend.


	3. Disscussion of Fate

**Forbidden Gods**

**I****III. Discussion of Fate**

Two days have passed and Achilles spent his time with Paris, sitting on the floor and talking about anything that popped in their minds. Achilles didn't try hard to hide his feelings from the prince, because he still believed that he was going to die soon. Soon the belief turned to become an excuse.

Once Agamemnon and Menelaus were fighting again over Paris' fate, and Achilles again witnessed the quarrel. Soon Agamemnon grew weary and slowly turned towards Menelaus' favor of killing the young man. When Achilles knew Paris' life was going to end, in that very discussion he burst in. "I'll take him." The two brothers lift their heads towards his direction. All eyes were on him, and he loved the feeling. "I'll take him with me. You won't have to deal with his welfare, and you will soon believe him dead from the silence of his presence." He was right. Agamemnon won't have to deal with keeping him alive and Menelaus will soon forget him. But Achilles didn't know why Agamemnon spared Paris' life in the first place. "I'll think about it." Was all the king said. Menelaus said no more and sat in the nearest chair, while the king returned to his cushioned throne. Achilles was ready for a 'yes' not a 'maybe'. He looked at the two faces for reaction, but none came and he left without a word.


	4. Underneath the Covers

**Forbidden Gods**

**I****IV. Underneath the Covers**

Achilles was angry that he did not know the answer. He was usually stubborn when it came to information. When he entered the tent, Paris could sense he was troubled. "What's wrong?"

Achilles didn't want to talk about it. "He said, he was going to think about it?" Paris had no idea what was wrong with Achilles. He got up and walked towards his friend as far as his rope will take him; which was only two steps, but steps none the less.

Achilles didn't know how long Paris was going to life. He could be killed right now or in a few months. Achilles didn't even know when to say goodbye if the time ever came. The prince's life was out of his hands. Or was it? He took his dagger and slashed off Paris' ropes.

The prince stood puzzled looking at Achilles. _Was this a test of some sort? Or a tease? _Paris didn't know how to thank him, or to thank him at all. But he knew Achilles would never let him go and drive him to slaughter if he stepped out of the tent. Or will he?

"Your free, go!" Achilles pointed toward the back flap leading towards the dessert and not far, a small village. But Paris didn't know it may or may not be a trick. But he didn't want Achilles to know that he suspected if it was. "If you wouldn't mind, I would like to stay here." By the end of that short sentence Paris truly meant it. He didn't want to leave Achilles, not yet. He told this man his dreams, fears, history. And same with Achilles, his panicky short breaths quieted down and smiled of relief.

"We should celebrate your release. I'll be back with wine." Achilles dashed out of the tent. Paris jumped eagerly on the side of the bed. It's been weeks since he last sat on some thing as soft as this. Meanwhile Achilles searched for an unused bottle of wine. Since the men were starting to pack up, any wine bottles or tables were scare.

Back at the tent, Paris took off one of his bracelets. Underneath it laid a white scare across his wrist. Before Helen came, there was so much pressure of measuring up to his eldest brother, Hector.

He barley got any attention from his father. And if he did it would be a slap across the face from something he did wrong, afterwards he would beat out his anger and frustration into the beds of nameless women. It was always the same, his father would tell him to stop acting like a wild child and be more stable like his brother. Have a wife, have a child, grow up, be more involved with politics.

But none of those were in his interest. His father didn't know that he was far too young to take an interest in those things. And if no women would satisfy his relief, he would take the course of pain to distract himself from the world. No one knew, not even Helen.

When he heard Achilles steps towards the tent, he quickly slipped on his bracelet. The war hero held two bottles in his hand. Paris' eyes lit up with thirst. Achilles sat next to Paris and began opening the 1st bottle. "What made you free me?" Achilles didn't want Paris to know that Menelaus wanted him dead for good. So he just shrugged the answer no. They both drank a bottle and half until a cry for Achilles came outside the tent. "Stay here." Achilles ordered and Paris did.

He came out a little loose footed from the heavy wine. The voice was Menelaus. "What makes you want to take that little bastard with you!?" he whispered not wanting other ears to listen. Achilles thought for a moment. "I have no servants at my home and thought, with all this popularity; I should start acting like the warrior all believe I am. So basically I need to start up my numbers of slaves." Menelaus tried to look into Achilles' tent, but the warrior leaned in front of his every move to block his glances. Until he was satisfied he left the warrior.

Achilles had no idea that it was already evening. It wasn't the sun the told him, but the activity stirring in the camp. Camp fires were made and conversations were heard from all over. Soon the women will be out and drinking will presume from last night.

When he entered his tent, Paris sat where he was before he left. He felt guilty not to tell his friend of the danger that lurks to harm his friend's life. "If you are going to leave, you better leave now. The soldiers are or will be drunk soon." Paris laughed then Achilles joined. "No, I told you I want to stay. At least for one solid day, and the morning of the next hasn't come yet."

"But." Achilles controlled his laughter. "Where will you sleep for the night? I can understand you are tired of the floor, but I don't have an extra bed for you, much less a chair." Paris looked at Achilles with a yearning of something. He didn't know if it might be him really or the wine that spoke. "Then, maybe there is a solution of me having your bed." Achilles was getting nervous. Strong he may be in the battle field or with anyone else in another matter. But, it was Paris who was the master and dominate one in seduction and bedding. "Hehe, think before you speak Paris, don't you think it crowded?" A warm urge began below his hips and he soon harden as Paris leaned over him. The prince kept deep eye contact as he reached for the second bottle. "No." As he withdrew himself, he wished he would have savored the touch of them two more. Achilles laid his hands over his groin that soon was hoisting out and very noticeably.

Achilles trembled like a filly every now and then and it wasn't even cold. He was, nervous. He couldn't believe it, that he was shaking in front of another! Had Paris think him weak now? No, he can't have that. Never anyone thought that of him, and it certainly won't start now. But what was he going to do to change this course?

Should he kiss him? He has always wanted to touch the prince, ever since he saw him standing afraid and sweating in the middle of his tent. And when he pinned him down from escaping, it was him that had trouble to breath. Also, he had to get off of the prince quickly, unless Paris would know his growing intentions under his tunic. However, Achilles would never get the years of experience like Paris does. Paris was known to seduce any one, and would fuck anything with legs.

Paris could tell Achilles was fighting something in his head, and his focus wasn't here. He also noticed the reason why he was shaking so by the bundle that he tries to cover. Paris only silently smiled then began his craft. "Cold night for this season, right?" he asked so innocently.

Achilles was dumbstruck. "Yeh, uh, it is cold.....specially....ahhh?....this season, I mean" He began babbling of things that had no relation to the cold night. But it wasn't cold for him, it was hot. So hot that he began sweating underneath it all. Paris gently, yet swift and sly, turned his chin towards him and sucked Achilles lips for a brief moment. Achilles froze and a tingle shocked through his body and ended in his cock where it made it harder. When Paris slowly reared away he slightly pulled apart Achilles thighs, making an opening for him to lie himself on top of him. One of his legs was on the other side of the bed and the other dangled over the edge they sat on. Paris reclined himself frontward on Achilles' chest. Achilles always carried a dagger at his side at night, but tonight Paris untied the belt and along slipped off his weapon.

Achilles hesitated to kiss Paris but the prince beat him to his. The man opened his mouth slightly to let his tongue slip through his untouched lips of vinegar and toyed with his own. Paris began working on Achilles' tunic and slipped it off, shoulder by shoulder. He began sucking on Achilles' neck and tried to slide off his bottom skirt. His hands went from the warrior's blonde hair down his sweaty back and grabbed his ass and motioned Achilles to lift up his hips, which he did, and up, came the skirt and joined his tunic on the floor. Now Achilles was bare naked to the prince, and trembled with fright but eager to feel what ever pleasure was to be laid upon him. Paris took a second to marvel at the warrior's body. It was perfect. Every muscle had its own shadow, no visible scars and all was kissed by the suns rays, coating it a bronze tan. Achilles sat up because he didn't like being alone on his back; he wanted to be close, to be touched. Paris kissed him softly, then gradually harder digging his tongue in Achilles mouth. Achilles broke the kiss off to breath but Paris wasn't done. He continued his way down Achilles throat, to his shoulders.

Achilles' breathing became harder just as much as his cock. The very touch of Paris would be enough to sent him out. But he fought it as hard as he could, which caused his torso to ooze with sweat. Paris licked it and then twirled his tongue around Achilles' nipples. The hero groaned in passion. The prince was surprised that so little could cause to tick Achilles mind. _Wait till I get started._ He thought to himself. His lips started his way down from nipple to Achilles' bellybutton. It wasn't long before Achilles gripped the bed sheets ferociously turning his head from one side to another.

Paris began to go down on him more every second and soon enough his lips were on Achilles' groin. The prince smiled up at Achilles, who didn't smile back because his eyes were closed, and then Paris began opening his mouth to Achilles. The warrior arched his back as far as he can and out came a passionate hiss; because he didn't want to create much of a noise for any to hear outside. Paris continued stroking Achilles' dick up and down, in long slow sweeping motions. Until Achilles knew he was going to explode he quickly claimed Paris' chin up towards his mouth and rolled on top of Paris' delicate body.

He slowly pulled Paris' sarong down his legs and out from under him, since they were so loose he didn't have to bother much. Now it was his turn to really look at his partner's body. Achilles pulled away from Paris' mouth and scanned him ever so slowly, in taking every flawless limb and carved muscle. Feeling a little impatient, Paris licked Achilles' lips playfully as would a kitten do. From the young man's stamina, Achilles smiled at Paris affectionately and as did his prince.

He reached far just to kiss Achilles' lips, but liking to feeling of being wanted in such a way he kept on rearing back, teasing Paris. Until he knew Achilles was playing games, he looked at him deep keeping Achilles staring into his eyes. Knowing Achilles was hypnotized by him; he took this chance to push him down and swerved himself on top again. It was a smooth transition that Achilles was surprised he did not block it but laughed at himself.

Again Paris went straight for Achilles neck sucking at the point where his neck ended and his broad shoulders connected. The warrior went crazy at his touch and carefully wrapped on leg over Paris. Knowing he wanted more, Paris went for his ear and twirled his tough in and out. This made Achilles mad with passion and slightly bucked into Paris occasionally.

It provoked Paris into another naughty idea for Achilles to experience. He began opening his lover's sweating thighs apart even more and grasped Achilles' leg on his back to join the other. Achilles' hands left the bed spreads to massage Paris' shoulder and head, slowly transitioning to stroke Paris' cheek. The prince looked down at Achilles then his face sank into his palm closing his eyes in trust.

Achilles' tongue slipped through Paris' partially opened lips and fought with Paris' tongue. From out of nowhere, Achilles felt a painfully feeling between his legs for a brief second, but was over conquered by an even greater sensation that quickly came after it. Paris began motioning into Achilles starting slow, for him to get use to its movements. It wasn't long before Achilles moaned out loud after each thrust. Soon Achilles wanted more and grabbed Paris' tight ass for the prince to come into him even deeper and stronger. Paris got the idea and fucked him faster, gradually giving more effort after each groan from Achilles.

Achilles bit into Paris' shoulder to quiet himself down and wrapped his legs tighter around Paris' waist. Achilles, caught up in the heat, moaned and Paris hesitated that he was hurting him. "Don't stop." Achilles sighed and Paris continued ever harder. Soon Achilles spilled all over Paris and arched his back and neck out towards the heavens. Paris lightly licked the bump of Achilles throat. Achilles scratched Paris' back, beginning for completion and Paris was groaning for it too. As soon as it was thought of Paris released himself into Achilles, which gave off warm feelings inside.

Exhausted, Paris stopped but didn't know if Achilles wasn't done. So after a brief session, Paris tiredly continued and had to stop again. But still had no idea if Achilles wanted more and fucked him up for a few more pushes which were so hard they made Achilles muscles flinch. Achilles worked up strength to find his voice again stoking Paris' hair. "stop, its okay rest for a while." He whispered into his lover's hear and Paris collapsed into Achilles' arms, both of them breathing like broken horses.

Achilles stared up at the ceiling, with his blonde hair fanned out across the bed experiencing the last of his orgasm. Paris lay quietly on top of Achilles feeling every once tensed muscle relax in his body. After such a wonderful experience that not even Helen and him could top it off, guilty ideas formed into his mind. _Oh, Apollo, what have I done? How would father react if he would have known that I had bedded a Greek? And not any regular but the one that killed my brother._

Paris searched the creased in the bed sheet desperately and let out a heavy sigh. Achilles felt something negative in that last sigh and turned Paris' head up towards him. "Are you okay?" he asked softly then he ever done before, not wanting to break amazing rushes that the two are feeling right now. Paris tuned out his thoughts and smiled up to Achilles and his warrior smiled back and resumed their quieting breathing.


	5. Answers Answered

**Forbidden Gods**

**I****IIV. Answers Answered**

Morning crept into the tent, and the world slowly woke up from its continuous cycle of sleep. Achilles woke up just at the right time, because any later he would have never been alert of the approaching footsteps heading towards his tent. At first he thought it was a dream, but when he awoken and the noise continued he shot up with panic running through his mind._ Great, how am I going to get out of this? Caught in bed with the enemy. _Just when the solider came through the flap, Achilles yelled "STOP!" All seemed to have frozen, the jostling outside, the solider that stood scared out of his mind, Achilles' hand in mid air. The young messenger was terrified if he had done something wrong and could barely speak his words. "My, my lord?" Achilles looked around. Paris wasn't beside him, but was found sleeping on the floor in his regular spot. "My lord, the king would like to speak with you..." the solider waited for a reply but Achilles laid in his bed shocked and trying to figure out if he really did those things with Paris. A moment passed, "Well, what the hell are you standing there for, get out!" The solider jumped and darted out of the tent like a hunted rabbit.

Achilles quickly got dressed and walked to Agamemnon's tent. For the second time, the old man was found with grapes except this time a young attractive women was the one who held them. "What do you want with me at this hour?" he began. The king gently stroked the girl's arm, and she giggled in response. "I have reached a decision. The prince will come with me to Greece." The warrior stood stricken with surprise. He wasn't expecting this. "Why?" he asked. And this was his chance. He longed to get back at Achilles and the only way without killing the guy was to bore him to death with a lecture.

"Because my advisors always bother me to choose an heir to obtain my wealth and power after I leave this world. And you and I both know that I am way too old to reproduce. Our first suggestion was to choose a loyal man like my brother. But he won't last long on the throne after I die because he will die not long after me. There was always one of the Greek Kings. But I have sacrificed all my energy, time, patience, and wine going to battles, waiting for the end of it and take over. And I don't want all of that to go to waste. Also, they will disband when the word of my death reaches their ears. All of the young boys in Greece are either too simple, or too dumb for politics. I need someone young, fresh, someone where I can put my own war tactics, ideas, and methods into their minds. And when I saw this prince I knew he was perfect. Imagine, he stole the most beautiful creature on this earth, lead her to his own bed without punishment, or giving her back...Nobody dare stood up to him and told him otherwise! And that takes persuasion. Yes it was his looks none the less but, persuasion. And to me that is the main element to rule an empire." Achilles was already dead by boredom a long time ago. Agamemnon succeeded. "So you bring him home to be your pupil?" Achilles was sick of his ideas to use human beings as puppets. The king's attention was turned to the woman. "Yes." The hero charged out of the tent, and again the stress was beginning to choke him.

_Damn! Not Paris, not my loyal Paris. That bastard will poison him with his corrupted tactics. _Achilles stopped in his steps. A plan began to construct in his mind. _I have to see him again, to talk about last night... Oh god, last night... No, I have to get on a ship going to Agamemnon's palace and meet him there. But which one? The would be so much easier if a thousand ships weren't launched!!!!!!! _Achilles made his way to the shore hoping to board a ship. The last to the camps were packing up, and time was not on his side.


	6. Boat Sickness

**Forbidden Gods**

**X. Boat Sickness**

Out of a thousand ships he chose, Achilles picked the one next to Agamemnon's own ship. He must have been guided by the hand of Apollo because he jumped on the same ship boarding the Prince of Troy. But he didn't know this until afternoon when they were well out in the sea on their passage home.

Those that kept the boat assail were star-struck when they learned the great war hero will be sharing the same ship as they. Achilles began searching down below on one side of the boat, but found only food supplies, weapons, and gold. As his hopes dimmed he wound up in a conversation with an average solider name Scarto. "Is there any other possessions that this ship is holding other then food?" The solider thought for a moment, string into space before this memory caught up with him. "Oh yes? The king strictly warmed us not to harm him in any way. It's a prisoner from the city. Some say it's a prince, but the royal line of Troy was murdered." When he turned to face where Achilles last sat, he was gone and saw him making his way to the other side of the ship, and went below. Scarto was a little worried that he cause a mess of something and delivered the prisoners' death other then security. But an excused was already formed in his mind if any harm came his way and he continued on his duties.

When Achilles reached the bottom of the steps, inside the ship he found a door that was on the far right side. Immediately he assumed that it was Paris' prison and opened after he lifted the latch that lock it in. It was a small dark room with a table of fruit and some blankets for a bed. But no body lay on the bed. In fact, Paris was interrupted pacing the room back and forth and was startled when the door opened. Achilles' smile came back and again a weight was lifted. "Paris!" He came to embrace his friend in welcome and they did.

"Why are you here? Do you know what's going on? I meant to leave that morning but they came in before I had a chance to get away, I'm sorry!" Paris bent his neck to rest his head on Achilles' shoulders in comfort. Achilles stroke his silky curls to show his forgiveness, and then his two hands grasped both sides of Paris' face to look into his. "I was scared you were dead. If I would have known they would come for you, I'd warn you. I meant to talk to you about last nig" He was cut off by Paris. "What about last night?" The tone in his voice worried Achilles. He began to fear that it was only a one night stand. Or that the wine god was playing tricks on him that night.

Achilles started to become not his courageous self, but a dribbling man speaking nonsense. "I mean, I was worried that you would....I don't know! It's just that I'm not sure that you meant it... I was worried that I wasn't good enough-maybe if you want- we could forget about this right no"

Again Paris stopped him, holding two fingers to his lips. "I do not regret last night. My feelings were true and so were my actions." Achilles knew that such words were honest because Paris' eyes locked into his and after he spoke then remained for some time. Paris' intentions screamed to kiss the man before him and he leaned into Achilles to do so; but behind his mind whispered a regretful secret thought that he couldn't decline. _He killed my brother, and now I am friends with him and even worse, I care much more then that for him? _And with that one thought, he jolted away from Achilles' lips.

The warrior was drowning in fear and embarrassment, but he didn't show it. He was trained to hide some feelings. So he just griped Paris' shoulders in a manly way then began to exit out of the room leaving his prince. "Where are you going?" he cried. Paris dreaded that his friend was going to leave him here without any of his questions answered. But Achilles turned towards him before opening the door.

"It's too early to take up out on deck. When night comes and the men are asleep, or perhaps drunk I take you out of your cage." There was no lie of deceit in his eyes and Paris nodded, accepting his choice.

The day soon was cloaked in a deep blue sky sparkled with dotting stars, and the water was black, highlighted in the same blue as it reflected off the moon. The soldiers and sailors slept below, cramped in their personal sleeping space, dreaming of their missed families and friends. Above, Achilles and Paris walked around the perimeter of the boat over and over again, spilling out their ideas of the topic their conversation would be based on. "To me, red looks so dark and violent if you pick that as your main color in a room. And no room should have that kind of theme to it." Achilles motioned his hands in the air to better give Paris a visual of his idea on decorating. Paris raised his eye brows in amusement and grinned on how much a cold blood killer cared so much of decorating.

When Achilles knew this, he playfully jabbed in to Paris' ribs with his elbow. "Shut up! I'm serious." Paris chuckled at the thought of it and Achilles joined. As their laughter ceased a long silence grew between each other. Paris thought this would be the only opportunity to ask Achilles of something important. "Why am I not dead yet?" It was a disturbing question from one so young, especially if you knew that someone. Achilles had no other cover-up to mask the truth and no random idea came to him. He didn't want to see Paris' face when he told him the truth. His feet stopped moving and he looked out the horizon. "Agamemnon plans to take you back to become his prince." Paris dropped his curiosity transitioning to pure disbelief. "No. Achilles please, tell me. Is it you that has been keeping me alive." He was not buying it. He never heard of such a plan and hearing it work; kidnapping the enemy's son to turn him on his side. It was a fool's game of strategy.

But from Achilles' lack of response, it was true. Paris fell quiet, Achilles couldn't even hear him breath anymore, and his presence drew distant. The prince trembled in horror and slowly backed away from Achilles as if he was once again the one to blame. "Paris, don't." the hero whispered desperately. He motioned to walk towards him but Paris' steps hesitated to dash, so all he did was stand there as their bond slipped away from his control. _Hell with these games!_ Achilles thought, and he lunged at Paris, trapping him from escaping in his strong arms. "Don't believe I didn't oppose. I did, many times. And I was shocked as you are now, to hear such a torturous plan." Paris blinked constantly, and broke free from Achilles' grip. He made his way to the bow. Achilles feared he was going to jump, but he just rested on his hands that supported him from the rail. His breaths were quiet and shallow, but short.

Achilles quietly came from behind him and slivered his arms around the prince's delicate waist. He didn't dare hold him too tight for he feared on scaring the creature away more. Achilles tilted his mouth to Paris' ear only to whisper his feelings. "I would never drive you into such conspiracy." Paris absorbed the feeling of Achilles' arms gathered around him. Both of them were washed in urges to become more close to each other. The only thing stopping them is what the other was thinking. Achilles was the first to break the ice.

He lightly kissed along Paris' shoulders up and down, again and again. Paris tried to fight his sexual feeling for Achilles; tonight wasn't a night for this to happen. He gripped the railing ever more tight, squeezing out his intentions, but they only grew more rapidly. The uplifting feeling below his hips became unbearable to ignore, and as did Achilles. He gradually pushed himself into Paris from behind and when Paris felt his weight increasing, he slowly turned to face him, so that he can push himself frontward.

"No, this can't happen. Not now." Achilles didn't want to listen to Paris. He knew he was right, but ever since they parted he longed to hold him again like this. If he dared did that again he would drive himself crazy if not to hold him once more. Achilles nodded yes and back off of Paris. They could only resist the temptation so far, until both of them merged into each others arms again, only this time their lips were locked; tangling their tongues with each others.

They were not modest on how loud they moaned because no prying ears could be able to hear through the waves of the ocean and through its deck without opening it's creaking door. Achilles pushed into Paris harder then ever; to impatient for him to take off his clothes. The prince untied Achilles' skirt and his sarong, leaving them on the deck. Next he stripped off Achilles' breast plate, lunging to his neck; where he now knew would set Achilles off, which did. Achilles' groin, now erected began to leak little by little. He grabbed Paris' ass and lifted him to sit on top of the railing. He tried to copy what Paris did to him last night; that he never felt before in his life, or even imagined.

Paris was climbing his way from Achilles' neck to his salty lips until he reared away from a burning pain. It felt something was probing into him and he let out a painful moan. Achilles caught Paris' neck and calmed him down by nibbling his bottom lip; only to steer his attention from the burning feeling between his legs to somewhere else. His strategy worked, and the ticking pain left, evolving into a beautiful feeling leaving Paris burning up. Achilles pushed into him as before, but this time Paris really felt him go into him. Exploring something that no man or woman as ever entered, and to imagine that was how Achilles felt last night. Now they were both even. Knowing how wonderful it felt to be inside one another feeling the heat and passion of what grew between them. Paris tightened his strength in his legs that wrapped around Achilles' body, breaking off their passionate kiss to breathe. Achilles continued vigorously. Indeed, they felt as if heaven had gathered them two and caught them in its net. But Achilles wanted to not stop tasting him. Rich oils and soap still stained his skin from his days being royalty, and a distinctive taste of vanilla. He lavished Paris' body with kisses and stopped at his nipple sucking on it as if a vampire were drawing blood. Paris moaned again, stretching his neck to the stars, the overwhelming feeling in his cock released on Achilles' stomach slowly dripping down his legs. After a while, Achilles was exhausted and weary while Paris was also drowse of the whole experience.

For a while Achilles' ankles trembled but rested upon Paris. He reclined his head on Paris' neck and stared out on the black, night time waters. He stroked the princes' hair, and felt from his lack of movement that the prince was just as worn out as he was. They barely clothed each other, only to make their way down below, to sleep on Paris' bed down stairs.

Two weeks past on the ship, and the two enjoyed each others company. Some nights they would endure each other just to feel the other's breath next to them, or they would ride out the night and collapse on top of one another painted in their sweat. Achilles spent most of his time in Paris' quarters. No one bothered questioned him because the feeling getting close to home was buzzing around the mouths or minds of men all day and night. And no one had any idea what goes bump in the night. But as the men's spirits grew as they inched their way to Greece. Paris wilted at the thought of what's awaiting for him at he palace gates.


	7. Promise

**Forbidden Gods**

**XI. Promised **

The ship docked at the city's port in the early morning, and Achilles and Paris were the only two on board to leave. The rest of the men grabbed their things and rushed out to meet what they left behind ten years before. It was only a matter of time when the ships arrival was alerted to the king for him to send his guards out to claim his newly acclaimed prince. Paris spent his last minuets in Achilles' arms, savoring the moment of being together for the last time.

He often shuddered to calm himself down, for the tears were not holding back this time. For the longest time, Achilles was on the verge of crying with him. He bit his tongue and held them back, making his throat stiff and sour to swallow in his sadness. "Do you think we will ever see each other again?" Paris asked melancholy. Achilles didn't want to answer it. He suspected it would be never, but he kept a positive attitude. He rested his cheek on Paris' head and sighed. "We will. I will visit you as often as I can." It didn't make sense to Paris, and knew he was lying. Achilles loathed the presence of Agamemnon so much, that if he had visited the king more then once every two years, anyone that knew the relationship of the king and hero would suspect he had not come to see his faithful king. It would be murder for him and Paris as well if their love was to ever be discovered. Paris has been getting that a lot this past decade.

From the conversations' pause, Achilles gave up on lying because Paris already knew the truth. "Just don't get yourself killed in any up coming duels... So that I know your okay." Achilles didn't want to talk this anymore and didn't answer. He held Paris tighter so he wouldn't go away, but he would eventually. When the guards were be heard approaching, Achilles would have to let go of Paris and accept he is not his anymore and never will be. _No, it can't be._ He thought. Achilles always got his things his way, and in some situations he is more spoiled then the prince or any in the matter. He cleared his voice, making it stronger to state the point.

"Let's make a promise." He proposed. Paris was eager to know what he was thinking and shifted his position to look into Achilles' eyes. "You will only have to stay in that palace for just a short while. Just enough time for me to get everything settled." Paris was beginning to worry that Achilles was making a stupid decision. "Settled for what?" he asked more concerned. "At night, I will take you away from Agamemnon and you can live with me. Just us together without anyone breaking us apart again." It was just like Paris feared; he'd seen this thing happen before. "No!" he broke away from Achilles to cross to the other side of the room. He not heard this type of thing done, but worse, he has committed it. This was the same situation that him and Helen have played, and look where they ended up with. A lost great city overtaken, his family murdered, his cousin raped and killed, his love Helen taking her own life, and him having to face a life as the enemy he so much hated.

He knew this was going to end badly, and he was even surprised that Achilles, who was wiser, was the one thinking it possible to complete without any sacrifices. Achilles got up, "But this time we will make them believe you are dead. Like you killed yourself. No one will think that you've ran away, because they have no idea who would help you in the matter." Paris spun around to prove his point. "Yes they do! They always find you!!...It just takes one eye, one ear or one slip of a stone to get you caught. And don't you think we won't because we will!! And they will kill all you loved and owned before they take what they want after they take you..." His face was burning up with frustration, and anguish fell from his eyes in tears.

Achilles still didn't see how on earth they would be caught. He ran the plan over and over again, and could not see any flaws. He still wasn't getting it and Paris could see it. He dropped himself on the floor back up against the wall. He was tired of love and wish that he would have be more involved in any aspect in life then love. It was killing him slowly and it would seal his fate. Achilles knelt down beside him, fingering Paris' bangs out of his eyes. "I will not leave you to turn into a corrupted king like Agamemnon. We'll have a note to leave behind to better prove the case that you've killed yourself. Then ride out to my home covering our tracks along the way. And if that fails in anyway, I will come back for you again...If you stay here both of us will die, because I can't live without you." Paris turned his head in disbelief towards Achilles. No lies were in his eyes this time.

The prince kissed Achilles deep and slow, which was a sign that Paris gave into Achilles' plan and that he was going to go through with it.


	8. Into the Loins' Den

**Forbidden Gods**

**XII. Into the Loins' Den**

The guards found Paris below the ship, alone, without any where Achilles in sight. As they lead him out to the palace where Agamemnon waits for his arrival, Paris stares around his new home that he will rule as prince, temporarily. It wasn't as grand and up kept as was Troy, but here you can tell that this city was only but a piece to the other cities that Agamemnon controlled in his political empire.

People stared at the new comer with suspension. Anyone can see that Paris wasn't Greek. His posture didn't show it, and his very dark features didn't reflect it; they all wondered why their king would want anything to do with him. Paris couldn't look into the eyes of the Greeks; they reminded him that they alone were the bars that would contain him in his prison here. _I guess this is how Helen felt as she married that brute._ Paris now understood why Helen hated Sparta so much, and why she (already knowing the dangers) went to Troy for a better life; even knowing it will lead to death.

It wasn't long after that, when the guards were leading him up the steps to Agamemnon's throne. "Ah, my son." He held out his arms open. "Welcome!" Paris stood motionless, fear and anger absorbed him. Agamemnon kissed him on both of his cheeks, just as would his father have done. "I understand your hatred towards us right now, but you must forget about it. Now you will not only be King of Troy when it's your turn, but ruler of all the lands I control." Paris continued looking him in the eye as his he had gone mad. "You think I would ever forget you plunging your sword into my fathers' chest." Agamemnon's smile dropped in disapproval, but Paris continued, advancing on him as tears weld up in his eyes. "You think that I would forget your men raping my sister Cassandra, you think I would forget you killing my brother, my people, and my love. Everything!"

The guards locked him in control by his shoulders, and with a wave of the king's hand they dragged him into his quarters. Though still Paris continued, shouting for all the court to hear. "And you still believe that I would accept you as a father!! Bastard!!" Agamemnon sat back in his throne, rubbing his headache away that he has already been receiving. "This is going to take a while." He spoke. His trustful advisor who really didn't fear Agamemnon boldly spoke. "NOO!! Really."

The guards pushed Paris to the floor of his new room. It was much bigger then his last one, but not at all cozy. It was grand, and every object was at its highest in value, but each one gave off a cold astrosphere. Paris was told to get dressed for tonight's feast that will be held for the victory of Troy and its prince. _Maybe Achilles will be there!_ With that thought alone, he was looking forward for the feast and dressed his best for his hero.

As night approached, Paris was lead to the feast. It was just like the one in Sparta, so much movement, people, wine, girls. Just when his foot touched the floor of the room, Agamemnon beckoned furiously for him to join him by his side "Ah! come here my prince!!". He obeyed. Paris had no mind on what chore he would do; it just gave him more advantage to seek through the crowd more for Achilles. But he wasn't there.

His disappointment was overtaken when Agamemnon rubbed Paris' shoulders to awaken his attention. "Please! Greece, this is my new heir and son, Paris of Greece." All men clapped with their hands or wine cups. _How fast they can like people. Not even a month ago, all these men wanted me dead. And now they applaud in my presence._ The thought alone made Paris feel so low. He felt so naked and bare in front of theses men, but he tried not to show it. He wanted them to fear the day he would be king. _What! I can't be king; I won't even be here when Agamemnon is dead._ Paris was now more confused then ever._ Well, I'll just make him think that._

Achilles never came to the feast, and Paris soon forgot the thought of him. He now was thinking how he was going to live with these people. The prince never touched the food, or wine, or girls, and Agamemnon noticed it all. He just toyed with his bracelets until he grew tired of the party and left for his room.

The bed was too large and he felt too small to lie in it. So he took the cold marble floor for the night. He knew the party was over or winding down from the decreasing noise. Then he heard his door open. It was Agamemnon. "Don't like the bed?" he was casual with his speech, as if he forgotten the war. He struggled to sit himself down next to Paris.

"Paris, I understand if you don't really like" "I hate it." Paris corrected him. After a short pause Agamemnon continued. "You _hate_ this place and the people in it...But you must understand it as an outcome of your mistake. It wasn't right for you to take that girl, and look what you have; you don't even have her anymore." Paris began to agree with him and hung his head in embarrassment. "I am just trying to ease that pain you have. To bear the death of your family and city must be eructating." Paris nodded yes. Agamemnon's plan was working; he lifted Paris' chin to show his crying and face his fears. "That is why it must be you... You have felt the touch of war and the outcome it brings. I don't want my empire to go to the hands of a tyrant so it can spill more blood in the streets. And I've granted you this power so that there can be some light in your life. Something that will not make you to drive your desire to bleed."

Paris straightened up in shock. "How did you know!?" Agamemnon smiled at his own cleverness. "I've seen you adjust your bands that hide your own pain. You must stop this, if not for your sake, then for mine." Agamemnon held Paris' hands in his own. "You are too young to care for the troubles of things that cannot be helped by you...Please, I don't care if you will accept me as your king, but at least accept me as your new father because that is all that matters to me." Paris was too weak to not see the true meaning in Agamemnon's crooked smiles and gestures. He fell into Agamemnon's arms as would a son do in need of comfort from a father. The king let out a sigh, glad that he was done with this already and anticipating what will come next in this bond.

Three whole days and nights passed. Each night welcomed another feast after another. On the third was the last one held. Paris found himself enjoying each party after every time he attended to one. The world of Greece soon became to know his presence in only three days. And in those three days he's been in Greece, when alone he waited for Achilles to come. But he never did, and soon the prince lost hope of that promise they made. "_I will come for_ _you." _Achilles said that to him, before he left. Those words rolled in his head. But soon they became a cliché and the meaning meant nothing more to him. "He's not coming." He said to himself. _But it's not like its horrible here. The men are very humble when you get to know them. And Agamemnon is a true wise king, maybe even as my father. I wonder that was how all our enemies looked at him when he was alive? _

Paris toyed around a necklace in his hands. The jewelry shown in the moon light of shells that could be identical to the radiance of pearls. It was the last thing Achilles gave to Paris before he left him to the Greeks. Before the prince of Greece went to bed, he left those shells on the balcony railing; and his hopes of being with Achilles.


	9. Three Months Later

**Forbidden Gods**

**XII. Three Months Later**

Three months past after the night when Paris gave up on Achilles, but Achilles didn't give up on Paris. News of the new prince spread rabidly like a forest fire and reached to his lands. Every time he heard people gossiped rumors of the prince having secret powers or that he killed Helen, Achilles smiled to himself; the only one knowing the truth.

When the promise was struck between the two, Achilles devoted every movement to pursue that promise. Nights past by with Achilles pouring his mind so that there would be no mistakes to flair any tragedy. The last time he saw Paris was memorable and in some ways being with him transformed him into someone like himself. He wasn't isolated any more and became a humanitarian in sort of a way. He still had visits with his humorist king, Odysseys. But the last time he associated with his friend before going after Paris was one he will forget. "You may not have changed on the outside warrior, but if one can look into the interior of yourself they would see a change." The fair king looked into Achilles for a truthful answer. "What are you doing?"

He can tell the truth to him. Its' his best friend and he won't dare rat on him if he knew. "I am going to do something drastic." _Alright maybe I won't tell him just yet._ This wasn't the answer Odysseys was looking for. "Wow." He replied sarcastically. "That's unique coming from you who is like a fictional being in this age." "I am just going to do something that you may try to stop me if you've known." He stood in his place with his arms crossed.

There was no emotional sign in his face that Odysseys could see to foreshadow what he will do. He never did anyway, so what's so different this time. "You are a inquisitive fellow you know that?" Achilles chucked, loosing up his posture.

Before he prepared his travel to get back his prince, that meeting ran through is mind again. _What am I doing?_ He thought to himself. _Here I am to get back someone that I haven't met in 3 months. What if he won't remember me? What if he changed?_ Worry crept in his mind, and it build the more he got closer to Agamemnon's capital.

Back at the city Agamemnon was preparing to leave for a council meeting not far away. "I won't be gone long Paris. Just enough to hear a certain king bitch about getting more gold from me, and on and on." He helped his servants pack his important belongs in cases. Looks like Paris' presence even made Agamemnon more unselfish to the things around him. "But father when can I come along with you to meetings." He asked, already calling him father. The Trojan War soon disappeared in Paris' mind. "When Menelaus' anger towards you diminishes. He still does not like you very much." _I don't think that bastard will like me at all, much less then very much._

When Agamemnon left the city gates it was Paris' moment to play. As time went on, he became his same old self that started the war by becoming again interested in the inquisitive opposite sex, or women. And men just as well.

Achilles was now traveling with a group of players, also disguised as one. He would use this cover to enter the palace and leave with Paris unnoticed. The landscape molded from a rural countryside to a diverse city. The individualistic characteristics of the place would give him more of an advantage to weave out of the city without any slow guards following them. Everything was setup perfectly; all he needed was Paris to accomplish it.

"We are in the gates." One of the players whispered as they neared a large flamboyant building that towered over them.


	10. Achilles' Plan

Forbidden Gods

**XIII. Achilles' Plan**

Achilles had to be careful of his movements to get Paris, because every mistake he could make was treacherous. "When do you want us to leave?" the player asked. Achilles still gazed at the palace. "At nightfall, when the moon is directly above us in the middle of the night sky."

Inside the palace, Paris didn't at all possess the same alertness of Achilles; instead his attention was on the lovely redhead sitting before him. The prince and his close friends that he made were lounging around in his room. The perfect place to make intimate relations, since being so big and so far away from Agamemnon's concerned agents. "So what's it like being the prince of all the world?" the girl giggled moving her legs to come in contact with Paris' hand. The couple sat on a reclining bench that was like a mini bed if you want to look at it that way. They were the only few young people not lathering each other with their mouths. Paris ran his hand up her knee to her thighs and the other played with her hair. "I'm not that grave of my responsibilities to my country. Something else is on my mind." The girl knew what it was but questioned anyway to be flirtier. "And what is that Paris?"

Paris moved in to whisper something in her ear that made her giggle more. The expression on the two faces gave enough accord of what they were thinking. Their pointless conversation lead to their real desire; of Paris lying on top of the girl, possessing him access to her plumped breasts.

"You there!! What business do you have with the king?" a bulk guard came up to the head of the players, who was a skinny old man. "We are players, hoping that the king would like for us to perform." The man scanned the crowd of players and didn't notice Achilles wrapped up in a shawl. "The king is gone on business and all there is left is the prince. Wait for tomorrow for him and his court to get back from their duties then maybe you can perform for them." The old man thanked the guard for his useful information and turned back to the city for a place to stay for the night. "I'm sorry Achilles but we must wait till tomorrow." The man in a shawl didn't go the same way with the player, but circled around the palace for an accurate opening to go in and out fast.

With the king gone, it made his plan brighter for a finish of simplicity. As Achilles weaved through the halls of the palace with great integrity, he wondered if he and Paris still had a great communion with each other. His worries of their relationship were still lingering in his mind with purity. When the amount of guards increased to a heavy amount of numbers, he pushed the idea for another time so that he can have clarity to plan out his next move. Physically he could take out all of the men that the halls seem to have a great sufficient of. But he knew more would come and never find that moment to get Paris. Luckily sneaking around became an instinctive talent for him theses years.

"Why do you still where those bracelets my lord?" the young girl asked. Paris didn't want to say and wish he didn't toy with them after they made love so she would notice. "Its like a second layer of skin for me." He lied to her sweetly, brushing a fallen piece of strawberry blonde hair out of her eyes. Just by doing that, he could of sworn that she looked like another beauty he had by doing this. She looked at Helen. "What?" she questioned. "Nothing." Helen was in the past; his family was in the past. All of he loved were dead. All but one.

"Paris!!!!!! Someone has killed the guards!!!!!!!" one of his friends shouted from outside the room.


	11. Meeting A Stranger

**Forbidden Gods**

**XIV. Meeting a Stranger**

Paris lifted the girl off of him to be courteous then bound for his skirt and sword. She still clanged on to the light wool chiffon. "Go!" he cried to the girl and she ran out of the room along with the rest of the party. Just when the sword's hilt was in his hands he spun around to be inanimate with another point on his throat.

It was Achilles and his keen position, looking that he was about to strike at Paris. "Hello my prince." He spoke casually. For the first time Paris stared at him with dismay.

Achilles killed the soldiers long ago before he opened the door, just much to look inside. There he saw a party and thought he was in the wrong room but then he saw an arm lift up in the dense party he stopped. It was a girl's but then was greeted by Paris' tongue. At first he thought this wasn't realistic and imagined that it was a servant that looked like him, but it wasn't. He stood aloof by the doorway, not knowing that he opened it too far for an overseer to glance at the fallen bodies.

Now he stood before his offensive lover; anger surged through his veins. He felt that Paris was patronizing him. First he feared that Paris wouldn't take him back and now he sees that Paris forgotten about him completely. "I longed to see you again and this is what I got?! You, fucking a whore!!" Achilles was waiting for a look of sorry but none came.

Paris carried eyes that gave off a barbaric mood, and he was obvious to his sullenness. He didn't say anything to Achilles, and knowing that Paris was no threat with a sword he dropped his languidly. "Why? I've waited for you to come." Achilles now knew of Paris' behavior. "It doesn't take 3 months to get me Achilles!!" he screamed. He dropped his sword at Achilles' feet then moved his way to the rest of his clothes.

This was a strange innovation for Achilles, after three months it was like their love corrosion away, leaving only consumed anger and isolation between the other. _This was not in my procedure. I thought of everything in the system, except this._ He sat on a nearby chair and hung his head for his hands to carry them, because right now not even his neck can carry himself straight. It was like his arteries were weeping, clogged up with tears and making his heart weak.

He watched Paris fully clothe himself with refinery and domestic taste. He then looked around the room. The volume was large and just the diameter of the bed was beyond belief. "How many bitches could you fit in that thing!" he spoke coldly to Paris. It only made Paris more hateful of Achilles' existence. "What were you contending to come for, Achilles?"

"I wanted to come for you! But looks like my obstacle for an efficient escape wasn't good enough for you! It was you that didn't want the plan to be sloppy like you did with that Helen." "'oh no! we'll be caught Achilles, it must have no flaws what so ever to get me.'" Achilles mimicked Paris. The prince stopped dressing and now saw whose fault it was. "I didn't want it that" he began. "Yah! You didn't want it that long either. You know what Paris, I think you want a damn little too much for any man to satisfy you!!"

Paris assembled his tunic then turned his way to Achilles. Obviously, Achilles could see Paris was crying at his words. His look wasn't elusive anymore but sympathetic. Achilles knew he said enough and abandoned the chair to Paris. A portion of Paris' tear was running down his cheek, but Achilles caught it before it fell off his face. He traced its trail to wipe it away. Paris now definitely did not want Achilles to feel this way. Truly he, like Helen, didn't really care if the plan would work with them surviving. He just wanted to go to a destination with Achilles to love him, even if they knew people would scour down the land for them.

"I sorry." He whispered, barely enough for Achilles to hear him. Achilles couldn't decline Paris' apology, he was forever in debt to him. The warrior didn't say anything, instead he lightly kissed Paris' forehead with affection. Despite what they did to one another, they could never extract their love and devotion for each other.

"Has it been really 3 months, because I was just guessing?" Achilles confessed. It made Paris laugh considerably. Their tension now eased, Achilles thought it would be a perfect time for something; since it wasn't night out and no lord here.

Slowly Achilles dislodged Paris' pins that held up his sheer tunic, which soon fluttered to the floor. A devilish smile lit up Achilles' face and so did Paris'. The prince grabbed Achilles by the breast plate to converge him into himself then kissed deeply, for they longed to do so for many a nights. They faltered to Paris' bed, which Achilles desperately wanted to try out. The fabric of the bed was in good maintenance; which was typical, but to acquire Paris' skin next to his achieved the feeling he got in his dreams. "I've dreamt this ever since I left you." He whispered tenderly. Achilles didn't have to say that, because Paris could have felt it under his skirt since it was so prominent.

They made love passionately all day and didn't care if an accidental pedestrian came walked by the room noticing the loud moans. It was some feeble servant that happened to notice the three dead bodies outside of Paris' room. He peered in to see two shapes groping each other. From his outlook, a vagabond must have come in to make love to an eligible servant girl or that it was a servant girl that killed these men and it was the prince she was with. The thought didn't relish his mind that much; all he was required to do was watch the prince. And since this was being done in the prince's room, he fled to his financial leader to warn.

The news monopolized quickly to Agamemnon's ears and sent him storming out of the meeting to attend to this defect.

"Paris why are you getting dress?" Achilles whined as he watched his love put on his clothes after he began tried to dress him. "You must go! I've forgot to close the door, and with it being open I doubt that our noise was exclusive to others in this palace. I wouldn't be surprised if it was universal."

Achilles grabbed his hands that held his skirt and fought with him playfully, but didn't find his resistance funny. "Stop! Don't you understand, all of this could be blown out of proportion just because we forgot to close a door! You must leave promptly before Agamemnon's rodents come after us." Achilles grabbed Paris' hands again only this time more forceful it hurt Paris.

The prince looked him in the eye and Achilles could see this particular situation could lead to multiple deaths if they were caught. Meaning not Achilles life would end, but also Paris'. Achilles jumped out of the bed as if it were lethal to him then effectively threw on his clothes. "I will go to my colleagues for the evening, and when the sun is down, then will come for you at the right preliminary. Don't fear anymore, this distance is only temperament." Paris understood, except the factor that he had managed to get help. He usually never had any help except from his favorite component, which was a sword.

The prince led his warrior through the palace halls, in and out of its burrows, since he knew it well as his habitat. "You can find me at my balcony." proposed Paris.

"I know, I know! Gods, you think I would be immune to your worry by now." teased Achilles, making Paris smile. They were standing under an arch leading out to the woods where Achilles could use for cover to go into the city. "Tell me when you will get me." Paris demanded. Just to know Achilles exact time when he will come for him diluted his toxin of doubt. "When the moon is clear above the city, but not yet above us." Achilles reminded him. "Which won't be long, so go now and get ready for the long journey home. Go!" Paris left Achilles and climbed the stairs, retracing their route. Achilles watched him go then moved on.

Just when he was properly clear from under the archway and out in the open, a large group of guards and archers materialized before him on both sides. Achilles was utterly taken by surprise that he was surrounded. He didn't have to peer intently through the methodical killers of men to see Agamemnon. "Hello Achilles." He said contently.


	12. Captured!

**Forbidden Gods**

**XV. Captured**

"So, what was it this time that uncovered me? Another one of your pigeons." Achilles asked. Agamemnon flaunter his way over to the warriors' side, then gazed at his adjacent rows upon rows of soldiers. He waved in a gesture of pride before speaking. "You know, a man shouldn't really raise his tongue in that tone when being in a spot like this." "Better I speak up know, because I already know I won't be able to in a short while."

Agamemnon chuckled at Achilles briskly. "What are you doing here? I'm surprised that you would go all this way to see me anger. If you wanted my wrath, then just breathe; since that is what I loathe the most." Achilles hesitated before unveiling his purpose. _I can't involve Paris in this. He will be strike down too. I'll just put it delicately. _"It's disgusting how you use that boy." _Alright, maybe not that delicately._ "Take everything from him then except to gain his complete trust by becoming what he hates!"

Agamemnon receded away from Achilles; his taunting has been getting the best of him. "It's curious that you feel so much for this Trojan! Occasionally, you never would show this much care for one, much less then a Greek either!" Agamemnon was getting close to Achilles wistful yearning for Paris. He tried not to look him in the eye; fearing that he too can convey his love for him.

Seeing the warrior defeated, Agamemnon slowly walked away, leaving his enemy with shame, but what Achilles said next made him stop abruptly. "How long do you think Paris will finally sought you out? You basically murdered his life... And you expect giving him another one will make up for it!! Please! That boy will stop at nothing to kill you in your sleep." The king transferred his attention once more to the warrior. Achilles boldly fleered at him. "BEACAUSE I'VE GAVE IT ALL BACK TO HIM!!" his spit lightly licked Achilles face from being so close. Agamemnon's face bruised red, and his voice echoed in his heart. For the first time in his life, the immortal Achilles strayed afar and all that was left was his child self. For only that fear can be composed from a child and Achilles' heels buckled underneath him. Agamemnon could see it all, but his anger blocked his pride. And even though his voice quieted, the harsh hiss behind it was still responsive.

"When he needed a father, all I had to do was role play as it, and that sheep bought it all. I have been nicer then usual so that he can think to trust me. I've got that bitch in the palm of my hands and I'm not letting him go." Achilles could feel the king's true intention reach the surface. "Then what do you want with him? You could just pick a lonely specter of poverty from the streets to match Paris' same conditions." Achilles tried to counsel Agamemnon into telling him the truth. Because, something didn't add up. "Why, what man wouldn't want a piece of that ass...And having such a 'close relationship', I could really use that to my benefit." The soldiers that were able to hear chuckled greedily, acknowledging Agamemnon's true desires. _What a slob of a man._ Achilles thought to himself. _Here I was thinking that Agamemnon was looking for an apprentice, but really was looking for some diversity in his bed._

Achilles had a strong aspiration to strike him now, with the sword in his hands, but he didn't for the arrows. All he did was spit at the feet of such a corrupt industry that Agamemnon made. The king laughed at Achilles attempt to anger his condition. "Well, if you won't tell me why you were here, then maybe my men could help that. He strode over to his horse then away he went leaving Achilles to be taken below the palace. It wasn't the pain he would have to endower that made him scared, it was what Agamemnon would try to do to Paris that made him worry.


	13. Behind the Mask

**Forbidden Gods**

**XVI. Behind the Mask**

The happenings outside weren't heard loud enough to Paris, and he thought the best way to revive himself after a very long day's tumble; he should get some real sleep. However, no matter how hard the prince tried to close his eyes, images of Achilles flashed through his mind, and they weren't the kind of fantasies that you should sleep to.

So he spent his time for a nap, staring at a point on the wall until he heard a knock on his door.

_Achilles!_ He thought, but it wasn't. The sun has not dipped low into the lands for it to be night. It only barely touched the tip of the foothills, which made every shadow and light glow red and orange. Paris hated that time of day, it irritated his eyes and made him want to shut them, until the balance of day and night were separated. He opened the door to find Agamemnon standing there. Panic seeped into him at the sight. "That was quicker then I expect." The prince looked around to find the bodies gone._ He must be here to talk to me about them._ He thought to himself. "May I come in?" Agamemnon was still outside of his room and grew impatient of standing all the time.

"Of course." Paris moved aside for his father to enter. Something was on the king's face that worried Paris. He knew something. "What is it my lord?" he asked. "Nothing son. It's just that I'm worried you were harmed. If you haven't notice, three guards were murdered today. Have you not notice?" Paris thought of Achilles, then he looked at the bed, it was in shape enough for it to mold into his lies. "I was on the other side of palace when all of this was happening, and stayed there after someone told me of the killings near my room. When they cleaned it up, I came in here to take a...nap."

"Hm..." Agamemnon was not really buying it and the prince could see it. But something was more urgent in his mind right now, that he pushed the thought away. "Paris would you please sit down right here? I must have a word with you." Paris jumped to the bench out looking his balcony and his father joined him. "Something wrong?!" Achilles was constantly rolling in Paris' mind. Just as much as they rolled around in his bed. _Damn, why can't I stop thinking about him! I must pay more close attention to the problem at hand._ "Paris, the man that killed those people; do you have any relation with him?...Paris...Paris!" "What?" Paris was staring at the balcony, in dazed with Achilles.

"Do you need some aide my son?" Agamemnon touched Paris' forehead and cheek with the back of his hand. "No. I'm alright, promise. Why have you caught the killer?" There was a sign of importance when he asked that one question. Agamemnon chuckled, bearing his foxy smile. "Yes. It was Achilles."

Paris' delightful thoughts of him were at arrest, and he twisted his neck abruptly. Fear was in his eyes, and his relaxed breathing made a drastic stop. "What!" His response were no more then a whisper. Agamemnon carried on about how they stopped and that they never found out why. _No this can't be happening. We should have left the door closed!! Damn him for not doing so! Wait- why should I scowl him? He's the one technically in deep shit. They right now are putting him in chains and being tortured by some specialist! I can't stay here; I can't live when knowing I could have done something to help. _"I'll be right back, we'll continue this later!" Paris jolted off the bench to make his way to the basement, but a strong grip stopped him to do so.

"No we will not continue this later." Agamemnon held his frail wrist tight enough, leaving a mark. "I do not like your attitude about this topic, and how you use this so unlikely then I've would imagine. He pulled Paris down on his knees. The prince thought he broken his wrist. "After all I have done for you. Sparing your life and giving you a better one, without anything in return..." Each syllable that Agamemnon hisses brought him lower to Paris' level on the marble floor. Paris couldn't move his right hand without bring excruciating pain. He felt Agamemnon's warm gaze upon his skin, and the thought burned into his mind full of fear.

"Well that phase has gone now." Agamemnon pushed Paris austerely flat back on the cold marble. Before he could get up Agamemnon sordidly push him back down and inclined his heavy weight to pin the broken creature down. He pulled Paris' legs apart for an aptness entry into Paris. The prince kicked and screamed emulously for help, but by Agamemnon's countenance, or expressions no one heard them or even would help the prince challenging the king's commands.

The juggernaut above Paris laughed immensely the more the prince tried to resist. He ripped at Paris' tunic; lashing it off his slim torso. Until the prince' screams tired the king he lunged his tongue into Paris' mouth that made him gag if Agamemnon would go down to deep and forceful. When he knew his cries wouldn't ever be answered he tried eminently to defend himself by force. But his only one hand would work and Agamemnon was a hefty large man. Paris feared that this was the end of his sanity and extremity of death.

After taking off Paris' tunic he ripped his mouth from Paris' florid lips to his neck; where he licked as savage harpies all throughout Paris' flesh. The prince pedantically struggled to get one of his legs out from under Agamemnon to kick with. Though he was too late, the king forcefully grabbed him by the shoulders, and dragged him to the bed. Paris' wrist was distained with his normal flesh tone, to a deep blue bruise.

As he was thrown on the bed, again Agamemnon burdening him with his weight and slicing his legs apart. Hitherto, Agamemnon began at Paris' skirt; pulling it down far enough then wiping his under his feet. Paris lest that he didn't provisioned this before, he should of known that Agamemnon having the traits of geniality was balderdash. Now he began to understand that his purpose of voyage was not in politics but worse; bondage. The perplexity of the whole thing was bringing him much disquietude; and he shut out his eyes, hoping it will end fast for him.

The jolting form brought even more unnamable pains, this time it plunged between his legs. He arched himself up in pain; letting out a painful long groan. The abominable king pushed himself in and out of Paris continuously making Paris indignation more violently then before. But it only aroused Agamemnon in doing it more deep and hard. Paris tried to embattled Agamemnon, but soon his strength quailed down. He trifled on then Agamemnon tried to force his tongue down his throat once more. Paris furiously tried to cast his head aside, stopping Agamemnon entrance into his mouth, brandishing from one side to another. But the king convinced him to stop and probed his lips to Paris'.

Odious boiled in Paris at the fretful blackguardly roughly plunging into him from all angles. Paris was a connoisseur of sex, and knew as innocent that led into this man's bed would be rapture and torn to pieces. Agamemnon sedulously continued insensibly, and not knowing the red, raw scratch marks on his back from Paris. He then went to Paris' neck; making a painful inflammation on his skin. Paris pulled at Agamemnon's hair mercilessly making him stop. "Stop fretting!" he hissed then bound Paris' hands together above his head and transverse his mouth on the inner side of Paris' sweating wet thighs. "no." Paris could barely get anything out of his throat, through it being sour and hoarse with all the screaming.

_What did I do to be accursed like this?_ The thought ran through his mind over and over again. He again reared up in pain from the sting that Agamemnon gave him from sucking his thigh to practically biting it. Luckily Paris' other free knee smashed into Agamemnon's face, but only infuriating him more to bring himself up to Paris for another dreading kiss. Only this time Paris snapped at him when he got close enough to his own mouth. He couldn't go far, because his arms were glued to the bed. Agamemnon chuckled at the wildness of Paris and advanced on him again the same way. The prince reared at him, trying to bit off any skin that touched his face. Twice more the king tried to kiss him. Just when Paris reared back to his normal state, believing he won, Agamemnon forced his way in sharply; catching Paris off guard.

_I can't do this any more. No more!_ Paris quite all signs of movement and resistance for his freedom. Without any force to respond with Agamemnon stopped, pulling himself out for the last time. When Paris had the room to escape from his arms, quickly got out from under Agamemnon and curled himself on the other side of the bed. Unmanning he shivered more then a filly; as the king began to get his own clothes on.

"You were not at all bad prince. Looks like you were shaped nicely." Agamemnon walked out of the room, but not before his head clashed into a sharp qualm; knocking him out. Paris threw a glass vase that stood gauntly on the side of the bed. His breathing was hard and rough only from intense anger finally coming out from him. "Bastard." He scowled to himself, and then collapsed on the bed.

After bedding the girl from this morning, to Achilles eight times throughout the day and a brutal screwing with Agamemnon against his will Paris was beyond tried but couldn't even sit up long enough without resting his aching body. And now what Agamemnon has just unlawfully committed to him, he laid there broken.

Your Reviews are much appreciated and keep them gone twice fold. Any suggestions or predictions of what will happen next will make my writing feel more rewarding. Hope you like what comes next. ï 


	14. Unspoken Guilt

**Forbidden Gods**

**XVII. Unspoken Guilt**

He laid there on the bed; trembling, to get over the pain and embarrassment of being touched in such a way. His hand was feeling much better, and it must have been a sprain that could have been over come if he thought about it much. But no, the terror of what was happening to him didn't give him anything, or at least time for him to overcome his pain. He thought Agamemnon was a kind and gentle man, with morals and a pedant of wise virtues. In the end the king brought coquetry into the prince. And now Paris was both low in spirit and hope. He felt so low and small to the world. _Any moment now, he will wake up. And bring his wrath on me once more, if not the same way then worse; death. _Just laying here was endangering to him, eventually he sat up.

All over his body was ridged and that longing sleep never came. He grabbed his skirt and tunic; and also brought along a sword if any threatful dangers crept up behind him; he wasn't taking any chances in committing what he was about to do now. He capered over Agamemnon's fallen body and made sure the door was entirely closed behind him, before making his way to the apocryphal dungeons below.

The rooms where the palace kept its lawless individuals were next to the kitchens with a narrow stairway leading you down into the abyss in a pall room of cells. He passed the giant conflagration that roasted its meat; ignoring the surprised looks of the cooking woman and men. Then, stepping lightly went to the cells. Midway on the stairs he silently slide out his sword from its sheath, knowing that there will be opposing forces not wanting to give up their greatest captive.

Anxiety and apprehension gripped his mind and soul but to his surprise, there were none to fight. Actually there were no guards on duty at all in the room! "You didn't forget that I am Achilles." Paris swiftly twisted his direction over to Achilles' cell. There, outside his barrier walls; were piles upon piles of dead guards. "What happened?" Paris dropped his sword and strode over to grab Achilles' hands through the bars. "They didn't learn from their former soldier's mistakes. So I've had to constantly twist necks." For the longest time, the prince finally laughed. "Come on get me out of here."

Paris jumped to find keys hanging off one of the dead men's hips and finally got Achilles out of there. When the last click indicated his freedom, he pushed open the door to embrace Paris. "I was so scared he harmed you." Achilles whispered. Paris dropped his arms immediately and stepped back slowly from Achilles. _He knew._ Achilles could sense that something dreadful did happen to his docile lover. Something in Paris' eyes now carried some kind of disturbing weight in them. "oh no." he whispered.

Anger was building up in Achilles but that didn't matter. He grasped Paris' face between both of his hands. "What did he do to you." He spoke hard and it scared Paris even more of the attack. He felt weaker next to Achilles, like a little toy that always had to be watched and never have the confidence from him that he could ever continue on alone. "nothing" he lied. Achilles didn't believe him. "WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU!" he screamed still grabbing Paris' face, only this time his face was dyed red with anger, and tears whelmed up in his eyes. Paris was embarrassed and wished it never happened this way. The prince began to cry even harder, he tried making out 'nothing' but it was a lie that he couldn't swallow.

_Not my Paris! The only pure thing that I could call my own was now spoiled by Agamemnon's hands. Everywhere I touch now, I know he kissed or invaded. Did Paris like it? Is that why he was crying because he is guilty? No, it's not possible. _Achilles drew Paris completely into his arms._ I'll kill him before he will even think of ever doing this to my love again._

His head kept running images of him climbing the stairs and entering Agamemnon's bedroom. Then seeing red blood spill from his sword and his body falling, making a satisfying thud to the ground. But he just stood there. Somehow, he couldn't let Paris go no matter how much he wanted to run and kill. He just stood there, wrapping his wounded love in his arms and burying his face in his locks to take the pain away by his smell. "Don't go." Paris finally able uttered something understandable through his sobs. It took a long while for Achilles to make his decision. He so much craved for Agamemnon dead but wanted Paris to be confronted most of all. If he left him, he knew Paris would be alone once more and he didn't want to part from him anymore. It was a mistake to leave him for the first time if he could easily just take him away. But then they would have been caught together. _What's the use! It was bound to happen; only a matter of time could have stopped it. _

"I will." He announced. Achilles could feel Paris' once tightened shoulders drop instantly in relief. Paris didn't care if Agamemnon will ever be punished in the slightest way for what he's done to him. He just wanted to be with Achilles and never go back to that monster. "We must leave now, if we ever want to get out of here. If not any sooner our protection home will be lost, and we will have no cover up wandering through the lands. It's best that we join the players now then be caught by any of that bitch's soldiers." Paris smiled weakly on Achilles' neck, then forced himself to let go of him and release from Achilles' comforting hold.

Achilles took a soldier's sword and Paris picked up his own then the two stealthily hustled out of the palace using the same way Achilles left before, only this time no army of archers met their end. The sun was down completely, and it had been a long time since Apollo rode his chariot trail of sunlight away. No moon shown its light this night, which Achilles thanked for it, was a better advantage to slip through the town unnoticing the prince. "They told me this was the place where they were going to stay until I come back.'

Paris knew what this building was and began to doubt the diligence and trust Achilles had in these players. It was a whore house, the dingy appearance and foul odor reeked the meaning of its structure. He slowly turned his head to Achilles and said "Who are these people that we must trust our lives with?" Achilles felt a little embarrassed how Paris was taking all of this. "Um... players" He grabbed Paris' hand and lead him inside the dark building.

Slow exotic music played in the back corner and naked beauties danced to it. Everywhere Paris looked some drunk was occupied with a woman, or more! Some girls were all over other men and women, and versa via. Every column had to be giving some support to a couple while making love. "Where are they?" Achilles asked as he scanned the room for any familiar faces. "Let's go up stairs." He suggested again dragging Paris by his hand. When they reached the top of the stairs to enter another room with beds and couches Achilles caught one of the players. He was a middle aged man, drunk already from the wine that bobbed in and out of his mouth.

"Argento... Argento!" He began. The man woke up started. "Wh- what! Oh, Achilles, you scared me." "Where is everyone?" Argento thought for a second, collecting his thoughts. "All of them are performing at some lord's banquet tonight. Won't be back till dawn." _Great!_ Achilles thought, leaving behind the meaningless drunk. "What are we going to do?" Paris was again worrying, but this time his outspoken thoughts annoyed Achilles. "We'll stay for the night then at dawn, we'll leave." He left Paris to find an unused room for them to stay at leaving Paris where he stood. "Great!" he scowled.

Achilles never found a room, and discovered that the only private vacancies were the two great rooms below, and above. So he just picked a corner not in use where there weren't that many moaning woman and groaning men in sight. Paris joined next to him staring around the room. As Achilles watched all these different parties making love on benches, railings, walls, and columns made him in a more, dirty vibe._ I don't think Paris would want to do that in front of everyone. But there are many men slobbering over each other as there are woman groping each other. What's the harm to try? _

Achilles wrapped his arm around Paris' shoulder, and then his other went up Paris' thigh. The prince would be more then happy to touch him in this way but then his hand touched the bruise that Agamemnon made not long ago. "No!" He hopped on his feet away from Achilles. The warrior got up and slowly walked towards Paris. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what came over me. Promise I won't do that until to you again ready for that kind of contact." He opened his arms for an apologetic hug. "What he did to you will never happ" "I don't want to talk about it!" Paris released himself from Achilles and started walking away with his warrior following behind him like some puppy. "Paris, you can't pretend that it didn't happen. What's stopping you from telling me anything how you feel about this! Come on, you can tell me anything." "Not this thing! You will never understand, so stop pushing it.!"

He stopped to let Paris be. Everyone has a way to deal with different things, while Paris went to sit next to Argento, Achilles left the building and found himself in the courtyard in the back. Images of that man raping his beloved made Achilles wince. It estranged his mind to think of that over and over again. _Why did I leave him?!_ _It's my entire fault; I could have been there to protect him. I should have used another way to get in, and used it to go back and not meet Agamemnon to catch me. All the pain will forever stain his skin and the disturbance of it all will haunt him in his sleep. Because I was too stupid to find a better way in._ He continued to blame himself of their distance to each other. Until all of the flaws he made today were all identified he had nothing else to say and was back to where he started.

He felt a solid lump of anguish like a stone travel from somewhere near his heart and burst out of his mouth in a scream that filled all the spaces in his head, and after the scream came the tears, like a torrent. His rampaged went on unnoticed in the nosy building, and he thanked the gods that no one heard him weep. Only woman cry in public and he shouldn't. At this time and situation, he didn't give a damn.

Achilles' voice slowly became hoarse from all the screaming and crying; and was exhausted. His body gave an occasional shudder getting over all the emotions he was going through. An olive tree stood in the middle of the garden, as if it was meant for him to lean on at this time. Paris wasn't here to comfort him, his beloved cousin was dead and so was his mother. So again he was all alone. Before he knew love, he yearned to be alone because he believed people brought to many questions, thoughts, drama, conflicts, and made life complicated. And of course, all of it was true...But Achilles wouldn't want it any other way.

Please review of what's going through your minds right now. I've made spaces in my paragraphs as you see, so I actually do read the responses you give me. Any comments, questions or protests I would be happy to receive. 


	15. Uncovered Wounds

**Forbidden Gods**

**(?). Uncovered Wounds**

He laid there on the ground to be close to the scent of Earth and lost all sense of time, until Argento found him. "Achilles...Achilles, sir it's morning." At the sight of the new born sun blinded his eyes making him shield it and not see the face of him speaker. But from the thing's raspy voice and short shape he knew it was Argento. "What." He replied; still picking up the pieces of what happened yesterday and arranging them in order. "Morning?" Argento helped the warrior up from the grassy ground then brushing bits of grass off his back. When the man began unconsciously let his hands slip on his butt Achilles grabbed his wrists. "Oh! Sorry." He didn't say anything back of the issue and began walking off into the building.

"Wait! Where are the players? Are they back?" The short man was shuddering at the attention he was getting from the pretty strong man. "Well, well. Yes they've been back since before the sun came up." "Then why didn't you wake me!!" Achilles charged off leaving the man startled and dribbling apologies. "They are just outside waiting for you... It's been an honor working with you." _He's not listening._ He told himself then walked out of the story. (In the end, the little gerbil found a nice bottle to go home to.)

Achilles came in from the back of the first room. Nothing changed in the scenery, wine was drought and women were making pleasure for their men. "Paris? Paris!" "My lord, we're here." The same old man was standing near the entrance waving his arm for attention through the sea of people. Many people were pushed by Achilles for him to get to the other side but with good intention. "Where's Paris?" It was the first thing that he said to the man when faced to face. "Well good morning to you too. He's in the wagon. Yah, the lord was so happy with our performance that he gave us this wagon in return of it. Pretty random object to me, but I thought it was perfect for you two to smuggle out of this city now that word is out of the prince." Achilles grabbed the man's tunic to raise his height a little more. "Word is already told of this!" The old man nodded.

_Damn, gossip in this city really has its way._ Achilles thought to himself, and right he was. There was no such thing as secrets in the city and any morsel of news spreads like a plague. While Achilles slept, Paris' escaped made its way through the city like a ripple; starting from the source point and encircling all over the town in a matter of moments. Just when the thought cleared his mind the party of players pulled up with a tall wagon leading behind them. The old man pointed it out. "You go in there and your friend is waiting for you." "I have a feeling he is not." Achilles told himself as he climbed into the wagon.

It wasn't something that you could stand in. From its shape it was meant to carry goods like wheat. The only thing that protected them from evil eyes was a sheet that covered over the wagon. As Achilles slide himself in, having to lie on his side; Paris was already there sleeping on one side of the wagon. But his breathing was to fast to be sleeping. "Paris, I know you're awake." And the prince's cover was blown. He opened his eyes and scooted over to give Achilles more room, then said no more for a long while.

Achilles normally welcomed silence. However, when it came being with Paris; he longed it talk to him. "My mother use to say, that: We are attached to the Earth by a thousand threads." Paris turned his way towards Achilles. "What does that got to do with today?" He thought for a while before answering. "Nothing...just wanted to make conversation." Paris let out a frustrated sigh and Achilles felt foolish of himself. _Oh goddess of wisdom, take my tongue for yours just this once._

Done with small talk Achilles used another plan to ease Paris' soul. He moved closer to Paris, back to his front and massaged his back. It always helped him to ease some kind of weight off his shoulders. Soon Paris' shoulders began to relax from Achilles' touch. "What's troubling you my love?" Achilles whispered lightly into Paris' ear. "I told you I don't want to talk about it." "You know it hurts me... very deeply. It feels that you don't trust me to really know you, as you don't love me as much as I do you." Paris stayed silent and Achilles believed that was all he was going to get out of him.

_If he can't trust me, then how will he really love me? All of this planning, waiting, for what? To get him raped, and our love diminishing by the hour. If it was all Aphrodite's' fault then I wished she would charm Paris again. _He was so into his thoughts, not knowing Paris turned to face him again. "Just because I won't tell you does not make any difference that I love you." His thumb traced along Achilles' soft full lips, in taking the smoothness of it all then beginning again. "When I feel like it I will tell you but now, I would rather talk to you about anything else then that."

"Then you wouldn't mind explain this." Achilles grasped Paris' wrists, which were bare from any bracelet. Knowing that Achilles meant this he pulled them away from his hands then examine for himself. "It was a long time ago...Before Helen, before we had any idea of Sparta. It was only a phase I went through nothing more." A lock of curl fell into his eyes giving meaning for Achilles to brush it away. "I promise you that you will never have to feel to do that again. The worst thing in the world to not have you and knowing you're alive is to not have you because you are not alive."

When he said this, Paris wanted to break for the first time since Helen passed away and collapse in a trembling grief. He wanted Achilles to hold him tightly as tears would flood forth. Then wept with loud cries against his shoulder for the terrible sorrow of it all. But he didn't, he held it in. Not daring to look into his eyes. Achilles could feel the way Paris breathed something was conflicting in his head. He so much wanted him to sort what ever was in his head. And he did.

Achilles leaned down to Paris' level for a tender kiss, but the prince beat him to it. By grabbing Achilles shoulders over him, he closed his eyes, and a wave of darkness washed over him as he fell back against the flat board with Achilles' weight and heat upon him. The warrior lifted one of Paris' thighs over his waist for a comfortable way to lie himself down on him. Their kiss deepened, by twirling their tongues with the other for a battle that will never be won. Achilles began to get hard and he knew Paris was also, because after each breath he let out a small moan.

The prince was getting his impatient self and tugged Achilles' tunic off so that he could taste once more his bare flesh. Once it was off he rolled on top of the warrior licking his way down his wide chest, then his toned abs. When his skirt got in the way, making him stop his expedition to Achilles' groin he untied furiously at the belt that held it up. Knowing now what Paris was going for Achilles let out a groan, arching his back and pulling at his blonde hair. Finally the skirt was tossed from Achilles' flawless body he rolled back over Paris, now on top this time. The prince laughed on how much Achilles wanted to be the dominate one. He thought Achilles was going to kiss him, but by surprised he went for his neck which was even better for him.

The soft moans were not heard from the gossiping players, who went on about their night performance and questioned where Argento was. By now Paris was stripped naked, pulling at Achilles' hair while he lathered his tongue on the princes' neck. "Achilles, do it." Achilles stopped with a puzzled look on his face, not knowing what Paris meant by that. The prince let out a sigh then rolled on top of Achilles spreading his strong thighs. "Oh so that's what you meant." Achilles chuckled. Before plunging into Achilles, Paris kissed him making Achilles grab his face from not going back to what he was doing. During their kiss, Achilles felt a slight burning inflammation down below that made him tear away from Paris and tried to grip on the bare wood making fingernail marks. Once a moment passed the sourness of Paris died away, replaced by an even stronger sensation that pushed into him.

From the many times they made love with each other yesterday, the burning feeling he got between his legs lessened each time they did it. Paris watched his warrior experience the wonderful feelings he was now enduring with tightly closed eyes. Achilles grabbed Paris, with one arm stretched over his shoulders and the other on his ass pulling him deeper into himself. Out of all their bedding each other, this was one of the most inactive rides they had on one another. They really couldn't use their imagination in a place so small. But in the place they were now in, running away from a city in disguise, and being enclosed in a tight compartment together on a hot day; just the idea was so erotic.

Both Paris and Achilles were yearning for release. Now their slow, deep thrusts developed into a more rapid pace. Them two were now breathing so heavy that their kisses were always interrupted for them to catch their breath. Now they were breath into each other's ear; just riding themselves out; reaching their climax. When they knew it for sure, feeling dizzy and weary, wanting to close their eyes, a voice called from outside. "Achilles! Soldiers are coming!"

The warning made them stop abruptly. "They are just going to talk with the players that's all." Achilles tried to reassure Paris. Unlike the prince worry doesn't flood his mind as quickly as Paris'. He was still feeling Paris inside of him and was close at begging him to release him. "I'm going to have to take it out now." Paris whispered. "Nooo." Achilles whined. "Just leave it in there for a few, not yet." But Paris didn't pay any attention to Achilles' begging and then began to pull on his clothes.

How was that? Please review after you read this!!


	16. Love's Sacrafice

**Forbidden Gods**

**X1X. Love's Sacrifice**

Achilles got dressed as quick as he could, but he only managed to get on his skirt while Paris was fully clothed. They could hear the solider talking with the players.

"Where are you heading off to?" The old man was shaking with fear and did not look at the solider once as he told his tale. "We're just coming back from a party at a lord's house and now we are returning home. It's none of your business where we are going to and I demand why you ask?" Surprisingly the old man stretched to his full height, and seems the dangers of it all brought out his youthful self. _Just like in the old days._ He thought. "My king's prince has been kidnapped and under orders we must check every thing that is going out of the city...If you don't mind?" He motioned towards the wagon.

"Their going to check us! Achilles, if your caught it would be the death of you!" "No, stay here! I can cut them up in a matter of seconds. We've got this far, we're not turning back!" He began to take his sword out and waited for them to open the flap.

_No! There are too many for him to kill, and it's bound for one of them to cut him down like a dog. He's blinded by his own pride! Why can't he see the other option as clear as I can! _Panic gripped Paris and it was hard to breathe. His stomach wound itself in a knot and he felt he was going to vomit from the anticipation of it all. When the shadow of the solider came into view, all sanity cracked in Paris. He grabbed Achilles by the chin and gave him his last passionate kiss. Achilles was bewildered that Paris wanted to kiss at a time like this. But when he moved away to see the terror in Paris' dark orbs fear transitioned into his. "No!" But it was too late.

Paris slipped out of Achilles' hands and out of the wagon. Achilles tried to come after him, but he was pushed with such force that he had no idea Paris could posses and fell back. He heard Paris present himself to the guards and explaining his action. _Move!! Go after him, get up Achilles. Get up!_ But he never did._ Paris would want me to stay behind and give himself to the dogs for my sake._

"No bother going through the wagon, I'm here." Paris lifted his arms as if it all was a game that the youth would play when bored. "My lord Paris! We thought you taken!" The solider jumped down from his horse and knelled before Paris. "Why are you with these people?" "That's mine and Agamemnon's business! Now if you please, I am going back to the palace. Leave these people be, they had no idea of my presence." One of the soldiers offered Paris a ride and off he went. As he looked back, Achilles was in plain view, but his face was vague. He couldn't see the pain he had inflicted in order to save his life.

All hopes were crushed when Paris gave Achilles that last kiss. That forbidden kiss. He fell on his knees and began talking to himself. "I give up." "My lord, we must leave now." The old man came to Achilles aid and tried to lift him up, but he pushed him away. "Leave me a horse and I'll be grateful to all of you always. Thank you for taking me, but now I'll stay here for a while to...think." He held his tears in and already his voice was crackling. They left him there, on the plain, with only Apollo's rays upon him to keep him company. "I can't even cry or scream from what has happened. Why do this Aphrodite. To jealous that you can't have him!!" He cursed at every god and every king, especially Agamemnon, even Helen for taking his Paris away. All except him.

When there was no one left to blame, he saw that it was his fault. "I should have never loved Paris. I should have never come to Troy in the first place... Long I have craved to be remembered by all, now I just care that one will remember me." A knowingness flooded his hear, and Achilles felt that someday, somewhere on this Earth or beyond it, he will meet Paris again.

REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW PLEASE!! IS THIS THE END, OR NOT FOR THEM? IF YOU GET ENOUGH NUMBER OF REVIEWS TO MY PLEASING THEN I MAYBE WRITE ANOTHER SEQUAL OR CHAPTER.


	17. Purgatory

**Forbidden Gods**

**Purgatory**

Five times it has been that Apollo rode his chariot, dragging the sun at his heels over the city. When Paris fist stepped into the palace, he was ordered to stay in his room until further notice. At this moment, he still waited for that notice. He spent most of the day staring out from his balcony and peering down the courtyard. It was heavy decorated with fig trees, orchids, green grass and plants, poplars, oil trees, lemons and jasmine. It was a beautiful place, and here it was sometimes possible to forget the face of Achilles when he left him. Paris shivered. Someone else was in the room.

It was Agamemnon, dressed in his significant color, red; but this time he had a large lump on his head from where Paris threw the vase at him last time they met. After Paris turned his head from Agamemnon is disgust he drew his attention to the attractive young girl in the garden. He's been watching her for sometime, memorized by her bronzed skin, black hair and curvy figure. He wished to run his hands along her sides. "Paris. I think you would want an explanation from me. But I am not here to give you such a thing..." Paris didn't make any movement showing care to Agamemnon.

The king wasn't his true forceful self. He slipped into his gentle, smooth self Paris used believed he was. Agamemnon tried to touch Paris' shoulder for compassion but Paris sifted away from him, leaving the king on the balcony alone. In some part of Agamemnon, he wanted Paris' trust. Deep down, the young prince reminded him of his late daughter. He swiped her name from his memory by drinking some tonic, to ease the pain of her lose. But he still remembered how she responded when knowing her life was to end for the sake of the Trojan War to begin.

Ten years before, Agamemnon angered the goddess Artemis. And when he needed her help the most for wind to steer his ships, she demanded the life of her daughter to make up the anger she had for him. Without any discretion, he ordered his daughter to be brought to him for her to marry Achilles. When she came upon the ceremony site and not seeing Achilles, but a knife in his place, she didn't scream. Instead she looked into her father's eyes without even blinking of fear and said these words that will trouble his existence as a mortal forever. "I will give up my life for your sake father of better winds." It hit him to know what his daughter is actually dieing for. But it was too late to speak out and hold her, for the knife was already slitting across her throat and virgin blood spilled. He hid his face in the folds of his cloak to hide his tears.

To this day, that memory stalks Agamemnon everywhere he went. But when he first embraced Paris, a little of that pained eased and her words were drown out by the princes' breathing. The feeling was so faint in Agamemnon that it drowned behind his lust for Paris' body. However, when he finally had Paris and knew he raped him; he would never again have that peace. Father Time showed him that he lived off that peace and his fatherly love for Paris was true, but would never be returned because of the marks he left on Paris.

"Why him? Out of all the allies you have in this world, it was him; the one that murdered your brother, to set you free. What alliance do you have with that barbarian?" "Barbarian!" Paris scowled. "How dare you call him that after the things you've done! And you call yourself a man to have your own child" Agamemnon knew what he was going to say and slapped him across his cheek before finishing his sentence. The prince revert his eyes to the king, bewildered to again do such a thing; after he so much wanted his acceptance. He stepped up to the fresh prince, only a smidge of space was between their faces.

"You are out of line boy! Never again will you repeat that event again...do you understand me?!" Paris stared him down and did not move for reply. Agamemnon made his way to the door. "And if you ever want to eat again, you will have to go to banquet. Can't have questions arose in court." Paris still didn't move, even after the door had long been closed. His mind revolved around the same subject over and over again.

_What am I doing here? To save Achilles' life, I had to give up mine. But first my sanity will revoke from my mind and pour into Agamemnon's blood stained hands before my life is taken. _Paris looked at his wrists, tracing the scars up and down. A guilty thought crossed his mind; but then Achilles' words reminded him in an instant; insouciantly bringing him at peace.

Paris walked back to the balcony, again gazing at the golden beauty. More and more, she's been coming looking even more attractive. This time her hair was up, entwined with violets. She looked back at Paris, knowing he's been watching her all this time and smiled then waved. The prince waved back and continued to watch. She was very revulsive to Paris, but lusting after something as this made him think of Achilles. The touch of his lips, the smell of his hair, and taste of his skin will forever be inscribed in his memory. Now staying here he was a ghost. A living object for those to lust after, no matter if he wanted them or not. Even if the girl down there was lying on top of his body; he still wouldn't feel her heat, or the heart beating next to his. He was numb to all things; to the wind blowing through his hair, or the fingers running along his shoulder. _What is touching my shoulder?! _

He turned to see a swollen eyed face. To his surprised the figure grabbed him in her arms before he could identified who was that was grasping him to her. "I am so sorry my dear." She could barely speak, her voice bubbled over her tears. Her hair was light brown, piled in a delicate bun. As they slowly separated from their hold, he knew who was in his arms. "I wasn't expecting the lady of the house to come in my room." Clytemnestra was wife to Agamemnon and sister of the most beautiful woman in the world, Helen. She remembered the face of the man that seduced Helen so much that she left her life behind for him, and Clytemnestra also fancied Paris. No woman could resist his charm and looks, for it was rumored that Aphrodite was the real mother of Paris.

But her girlish fantasies were long gone. Smothered by the death of her daughter and knowing who the one that sealed her fate. "My dear prince." She stroked his cheek. "I cannot bare myself; knowing that you too are locked up in this hell...Do not fear, it will only last for a few." "What is your meaning my queen?" Paris had no idea what she meant about destroying this hell they lived in. "To young to know my treacherous husband's sins. I can't do this knowing that you are here. So I want you to leave now, and never look back. Do you have anywhere else to stay? Friends?... I know you don't have any family from the fault of his greed but I cannot help you with that matter." She lightly kissed him on both cheeks, and then slowly tilted his head for her to sweep her lips on his forehead. The queen left silently as she came in but not before she told Paris this. "You have until tomorrow night."

Review Review Review!! My story is almost done, so once you read this you must review! This is my first story I've written on Fanfiction and I need to know if I'm good or not. I don't know the roman number after my last chapter, so you'll have to deal with a numberless chapter. 


	18. Paris' Message, Clytemnestra's Plan

**Forbidden Gods**

**Paris' Message, Clytemnestra's Plan**

"Come here. It's okay my dear; just want a word with you." The servant girl inched her way into Paris' room; not afraid but surprised that a guy like him would talk to her. When she entered, she froze in the room, marveled by its glamour and size. "Here, please sit with me." After they seated Paris scrambled all of his thoughts and ideas into an understanding form. "What is your name my dear?" The young girl was a deer to Paris' eyes; just stopped all forms of thought staring at him. "Oh! My name is Xantha. I work in the kitchens down below. I saw you before you got kidnapped when you entered them. And now I see you in your balcony below the garden."

She was completely smitten by him, which was exactly what Paris was looking for. "Xantha?" he grabbed her hands in his to prevent her from saying no. "Would you please do something for me?" The young woman's eyes lit up with joy and anticipation. "What ever it would be I'll do it without discretion my prince." He chuckled at her admiration for him. "Perfect."

O O

_He should be here tonight. No man can go that long without food. I've stopped all ways of his meals to his room, but he could have gotten a servant; bet it's a young woman, sneaking in portions to his room. _The night was only half way through, but the old king already felt its grip take hold of him, making him weary and tired. The entire woman in court just left to wait for their husbands, including his, in their bed while they play with the younger dancers that twirled and jumped in seductive dances from one end of the table to the other.

No matter how delicious the dancers were, he couldn't get Paris out of his mind. Doubts crept in, and itched all the way through his mind; expanding its adnominal irritation, like a tick or parasite in his head. _I'll just check up on him. Something doesn't feel right and I won't rest until I know for myself that there is nothing to worry about._ He slipped out of the hall unnoticed, disguised behind the amusement the dancers put on. As he finally reached Paris' room, the prince wasn't anywhere present.

"I KNEW IT!! Gone again!!!! That little brat won't hear or feel the last of my wrath!!" "I, I have a message for the king" The little voiced scared the king have to death making his heart jump. "What! From who?!" It was Xanthe, even more scared of the great king then he was of her when he heard that voice jump up from behind him. Her clothes were wrinkled and hair was a mess. Before she began to unravel the message for him he looked over the bed. "So, he had his way with you before he bolt?" A cruel voice of sarcasm ended every word. "Well, it was—my lord Paris wanted you to say that his whereabouts are known to Queen Clytemnestra." "Ah! Of course, that bitch has her long nose in every happening at this palace. I haven't had a real good night sleep because I'll know she will be watching behind the curtains...Well, what are you standing for? Get dress and get back into schedule!!"

The little mouse scampered her way out of the room and back to her regular kitchens where she couldn't wait to tell the gossiping crones how she spent her pleasurable afternoon. Meanwhile, Agamemnon heavy strutted his way to the queen's chambers, trying to cause a racket from his heavy cloak to warn her of his raging entrance. "Where is he?!!" She was in the middle of unpinning the golden hair pieces from her head and jewelry from her wrists. "Where's who my lord?" She hopped out of her seat when the doors slammed opened. "Paris!! My prince, you've got him hidden somewhere, and don't you lie you snake; the servant girl told me after she got knocked up by him!"

Clytemnestra's normal shaky voice that she had to carry for ten years long died out, but this was the first time Agamemnon heard it since. "Pity you didn't show this much care and guard for your own daughter?" The king turned his heels to face what he was talking to now. The queen, not in her usual groping posture, risen to her full height and stuck out her breasts in a dominate way, believing she was more powerful then her husband. "You managed to give a Trojan boy your time of day to worry about him, but you didn't take the time...THAT IT WAS YOUR OWN DAUGHTER'S BLOOD THAT YOU WERE SPILLING!!!!!!" Her screams echoed the rooms, finding its way to the halls, which brought Agamemnon to close and lock the doors preventing gossip.

"My love, don't live in the past anymore" "Take your filthy hands off me!! Don't worry; I never would believe you turning out to be anything like a father. You were always kind to her, but then slit her throat. Just like now you were kind to Paris, then you raped him!!!!! PIG!" Agamemnon tiptoed his way to her, trying to calm her down. "My queen, you've been drinking to much wine tonight. You really don't know what you are talking of. The Wind God has been flashing you bazaar images through your head, none of its real." _Woman will believe anything if it's been blamed on the gods. At least she will tonight. I don't know how long this will play on. _

"Get off of me!! And don't you spin your lies on gods now! Hera has been visiting me and councils me with everything for the past decade. And she says the only way I will live in peace and so will my daughter is if I make my **own** sacrifice." "What are you going to do? Egh, you're a woman! To weak to slay a deer if you have to." Agamemnon laughed at her anger and intentions. No fear where in his eyes or in his movements. Clytemnestra suspected that from him and was prepared of such stupidity.

She was hoping for it. Because if he was ever alert, he would notice the pin in the form of a dagger that held her last locks of hair together in the middle of the back of her head. Agamemnon turned to get a drink of wine from the pitcher by the window, so he could control himself from laughter because his voice was getting sour. As his full back was turned, he was too late to ward himself of from the hostile mother that pounced on his back, stabbing him even after he lay dead on the floor.

She plunged that knife in every direction as long it was into his body again and again. Blood dripped its way from the top layer of the room, down the small step ups that lead to the bed on its way down the doors. There was so much blood and normally Clytemnestra would vomit at the site of it. But the image of seeing her baby practically slitting her own self for a corrupted war burned inside of her mind; driving her to strike the dagger deeper and deeper in the flesh. It soon became a game for her other then revenge and she laughed in a menace tone.

Review, Review!! That really happened according to Homer. Agamemnon was murdered by his wife who was really ticked off that he killed his only daughter for a war. Makes you see what happens if you get a mommy angry. Don't worry, Paris will come back and the ending is drawing its way very soon. Remember, Review.


	19. The End of All Things

**Forbidden Gods**

**The End of All Things**

Weather was raw and cold. Seeing the form and color of the clouds drawing south, Paris suspected a storm will be striking hard right over him. _Perfect! Just when things couldn't get worse._ He acted rationally, only bringing what was on his back and a lame horse that will soon collapse on the ground. Paris knew who he was going to; Achilles, but had no idea where he lives or even stands at this point in time. Right after he left, Paris rode his horse hard out of the city. Now that he was well in the outskirts, he wished that he would have stopped for something.

His horse often fumbled, losing the strength to walk under his legs. White foamed out of its mouth and nostrils, which wasn't a good sign. He was just as weak as the animal under him. The only thing supporting him from falling off was the hold of the horse's neck. Apollo's shinning face was lost in the clouds and wind stirred, kicking up dust slapping Paris' face. Slowly all signs of control began to lose itself in Paris' body. "Keep going... there is hope over these hills." Paris continually talked to himself. There wasn't anything there in the elements that could lift his spirits.

The scenery was barren and dry, quenching for the coming storm. Nothing that carried height except the hills before him could keep Paris company. He was alone. For the first time in so long. The prince wasn't use to this exchange. Normally he always had someone to crawl himself into for shelter. His mother, father, Hector, Helen; even Achilles was there when needed. Not long after Helen took her life, the warrior came in perfect timing to comfort Paris. And even when he was gone, his faithful servants like Claudius, or Hailie, even Agamemnon was there before he saw behind his dark mask. But now, all there was left was this dying horse that would soon fall under him and leave him with nothing but his own skin to carry.

The two were now at the climax of the first hill and dropping down into the valley. He mumbled something to himself so soft under that gasp of breath, not even he could have heard his own voice. The strength in his fingers loosened after every step. It wasn't even a yard from where they stood to the bottom below. The roan slowly knelt down peacefully, accepting its death and rolling on to its side; trapping Paris' leg to the ground. He didn't care that he couldn't get up, or that his only source of travel faded out. Images of his life flashed by, and those were the only thing Paris saw before his eyes fell shut. Clouding his mind and direction into the abyss. The last thing that he said was only responding to the rustle of sound that was heard close by. "The storm is on me now..." And then he could feel his life slip away. No louder then the breathing of a mouse, or the whispering of trees.

REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!


	20. Forbidden Gods

**Forbidden Gods**

**Forbidden Gods**

It wasn't the feeling of the soft blankets that lay beneath him that opened his eyes. It was the sound of life from the window on the other side of the room that sucked movement and consciousness into Paris. His eyes fluttered open to show that he had not awaken in an ever going field where the dead walked, but a guest room. With the sounds of a lively mob singing him awake. _What?... Where am I? _Questions flickered through his mind as a slide show, then after a reel of them past, memories of how he got here took the turn. But there were none. He remembered this horse walking, then him going down, and that was where his eyes closed shut.

He got up from the bed and made his way to the middle of the room. Sweat covered his body as some form of sticky honey that lightly spackled his flesh. As he neared the window, he knew this wasn't his own city that he now stared out to. It was some town, surrounded by rolling hills of green grass, and farmland that stretched all the way to the horizon. "Pretty view isn't it?" That wasn't his voice. He turned to where the door was, only to see a gorgeous man standing behind it. It was Achilles.

"Achilles?" Paris whispered, not wanting this mirage or this dream that he was now experiencing to disappear. When feeling Achilles' arms around his delicate waist, stroking his silky waves, he knew that this was real and that this was his own life he was _still _living.

"I can't believe I gave up on you coming back to me. I stayed at that spot for many nights before returning to where I started." They were now lying on the bed, with Paris resting on his shoulder, both staring up at the ceiling. They spoke in quiet voices, not wanting to disturb their peaceful moment. "Where was I when you found me?" "Stop questioning me. It's my turn. How did you leave the city without causing uproar?"

_I think I can tell Achilles Clytemnestra's plan. After all, news of it will spread its way here._ "Agamemnon is dead. He was killed by his own wife, begging for release from her daughter's death that brought her so much angst. She warned me of her coming actions and demanded that I must leave. I guess...she didn't want to do it with me knowing who it was. No matter how much I would have given up to see his dying breath. Anyway I left with" He was cut off short by Achilles' sarcasm. "You left with only your clothes on and a broken horse carrying you across the terrain."

A small silence separated them, and Paris tired to think of an explanation for his careless actions. "Yep." They both laughed into each other's arms. "But how did you come upon me? And whose house are we in now?" "You were barely a step away from being dust yourself. Luckily Argento stalled me long enough so that he can thank me for something. It was for something dumb 'that my presence made him stronger of a man'. And I ask 'how's that' and he said he managed to ask a girl's hand in marriage...I can't think of the strength you would need to ask a girl to marry, both physically and mentally." "Well, maybe he was scared of rejection. You know there are some men out there that are scared shitless of woman." "Yah, but when it comes to you, woman are scared shitless of you." They laughed again bracing each other for control to gain back their stability for carrying on the question at hand.

"And, and when I came upon you all I had was a horse but luckily I knew someone that would take us in living close by. A sailor that I met name Scarto owns this building." Paris nodded along Achilles' story. When there were no more stories to be told of their departure, silence again brewed between the two. But this wasn't uncomfortable at all, though peaceful. Nothing more stood in their way in being together. In a way, it scared Achilles. To not worry or have to think on how to survive the next day will take some getting use to. But if it was with Paris all the way, Achilles was more then happy to stand by it all. He took his eyes off the ceiling to marvel what he now could call his own.

Seeing Paris damp with sweat from the heat was unbearable to let this opportunity slip. Achilles turned his mouth to his. Paris responded back with more force and entwined his leg around Achilles' own. Achilles closed his eyes and rolled on top of the prince's frail body. "Paris" Achilles breathed. "I can't breathe without knowing you are mine." His hands were on top of Paris' calves and ran up Paris' legs to his thighs, lifting up is skirt. Inside, Paris was begging to pin Achilles down and fuck him to oblivion. But his limbs had a life of their own and wrapped themselves around him as though they were ivy tendrils clinging and clinging.

Achilles' could feel his whole body grow hard and heavy. His mouth was open, sucking Paris into him, filling with sweetness that melted like a honeycomb near the fire. Night seeped into every corner of the little room. He pushed himself against Paris, wanting every part of the prince's skin to fuse with his, wanting to become one creature, intertwined and breathing the same breath forever.

Achilles' and Paris' names were forever remembered only for what contributions they made in the grimmest of wars. But to them, the real adventure was how they came together and stayed for one another to hold. Achilles brought Paris home to his house on the island where they lived without any threat that pushing between them. The only thing pushing was them. Paris and Achilles pushed more and more into each others' hearts and finally found that happy ending that the Trojan War was missing.

**End**

Thank you for those that kept along with the chapters! This was my very first fan fic that I've ever written. I know there are some things that still need some improvement on, but I believe that the experience and especially the reviews were enjoyable. Oh, who am I kidding. Gosh! I am so thrilled I've finally managed to finish a story on the computer. Usually I abandon it by the middle, but it was your review that kept me going. Now for my last wish is still the same. Please review how you like my story, ideas for up coming projects that you would like me to write, or whatever! LOL. I hope you all enjoyed it, and I will be gone for the summer so I won't be writing my next Troy story until later. My next project is the real relationship between Achilles and Part. (I can't remember how you spell his name correctly, but it was the guy who played his cousin) Another slash it will be. Thanks. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW


End file.
